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BEQUEST OF 
ALBERT ADSIT CLEMONS 
(Not available for exchange) 



THE MAN OF PLEASURE 



THE MAN OF 
PLEASURE 



BY 



RALPH NEVILL 

AUTHOR OF 

" THE MERRY PAST," " LONDON CLUBS," " FLOREAT ETONA," ETC. 

PART-AUTHOR OF " PICCADILLY TO PALL MALL " 



" J'aime les vainqueurs et les amoureuses, 
Les jours de soleil et les nuits d'orgueil " 



WITH TWENTY-EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS 



NEW YORK 
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 

I ^J3 






Printed in England 



Bequest 

Albert Adsit Clemona 

Aug. 24, 1938 

(Not available for exchange) 



All rights reserved 



i 



ST" 



The cynic smiles — the preacher grieves^ 
But Pleasure keeps her ancient sway^ 

Man loves, laughs, squanders, and deceives. 
As when poor Villon penned his Lay. 

We have them yet, the folk he sung — 
The " cuyderaidx d'' amour transis,"" 

The fair ones, laughter -loving, young. 
With saucy glance and morals free. 

Lutetia still with laughter rings, 
" // 71 est hon bee que de Paris ''"'; 

His gold tlie careless gallant fings 
" Tout aux tavernes et aux files.'''' 

The actors change, the plays the same — 
A tragic farce with moments gay. 

Its sentiment more false and lame 
Mayhap than in a simpler day. 

And Fate still beckons off the stage. 
When zvearied of their mumming folly, 

Each of the mountebanks in turn — 
Heeds not the'irjoy or melancholy. 

R.N. 



NOTE 

For the Frontispiece and many of the Illustra- 
tions in this volume I and my publishers are 
indebted to the courtesy of Messrs. Maggs Bros., 
of the Strand, who generously placed at our 
disposal their large collection of scarce and 
valuable prints and drawings. The design 
upon the cover, it should be added, has been 
inspired by one of the very remarkable reliefs 
carved out of chalk by M. Navelet in the 
magnificent cellars of Messrs. Pommery and 
Greno at Rheims. 

I wish also to thank Prince Frederick Duleep 
Singh, Mr. Charles Edward Jerningham, and 
Mr. Harry Hungerford for furnishing me with 
some other very pertinent illustrations. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I 

PAGES 

His Characteristics and Vicissitudes 1-32 



CHAPTER n 

Sporting Resorts — Restaurants — Grandmotherly Legis- 
lation 33-52 

CHAPTER HI 

Gulls — Pigeons — Rooks 53-78 

CHAPTER IV 
A Jovial Spirit— Bucks — Duellists 79-107 

CHAPTER V 

Some Reckless Spendthrifts 108-129 

CHAPTER VI 
Pleasure-loving Undergraduates 130-154 

CHAPTER VII 
Dancing Places — Music-Hails and the Old Gaiety 155-178 

CHAPTER VIII 
Pleasure-loving Paris of the Past 179-208 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER IX 

lie — Pomare — Gr 
ousse — Hortense Schneider 209-235 



PAGES 

Famous Viveurs — Mabille — Pomare — Gramont Cader- 



CHAPTER X 

Offenbach — Famous Cocottes — La Paiva — The Bal des 

Quatz' Alts 236-254 

CHAPTER XI 

Royalty at Play— Bluff King Hal— Charles II— 

George IV 255-277 

CHAPTER XII 

The First Gentleman in Europe— English Exiles at 

Calais— Barbey D'Aurevilly— D'Orsay 278-301 

Index 303-310 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



COLOURED PLATES 



TO FACE PAOK 



King George IV driving in Hyde Park Frontispiece 

Vauxhall 44 

Love, Law, and Physic 98 

The Palais Royal 192 

PLAIN PLATES 

An Arduous Morning 12 

£y George Gruikahank 

The Dandies' Coat of Arms 28 

By George Cruikshank 

A Restaurant of the Past 34 

Flowers and Fruit 44 

By John Leech 

The Juggernaut of the Turf 56 

By Matt Morgan 

Lounging at Covent Garden 88 

Monstrosities of 1821 94 

By George Cruikshank 

Getting the Best of a Charlie 100 

A Fashionable Man in 1800 102 

From an old print 

Preparing for a Duel 104 

By George Cruikshank 



xii ILLUSTRATIONS 

TO FACE PAGE 

The Road to Euin 112 
By Matt Morgan 

An Unwelcome Visit 144 

" Champagne Charlie " 162 

Miss Kate Vaughan 168 

Miss Nellie Farren 168 

A Masquerade Supper 180 

The Boulevard des Italiens in 1825 190 
By George Cniikshank 

The Caf6 Very 194 
By George Cruikslmnk 

A Smart Turn-Out 198 

Monstrosities of 1818 204 

Travelling in France ; or, Le Depart de la Diligence 219 
By George Cnoikslianlc 

Parisian Beauties of the Sixties 248 

A Man of Fashion in 1700 268 

From, an old print 

A Morning Talk 288 

"... A buck indeed ; 

Sings, dances, fights, does everything but read " 294 

From an old imnt 



THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

CHAPTER I 

HIS CHARACTEBISTICS AND VICISSITUDES 

Folly is a bad quality, but never to be able to 
endure it in others is perhaps a worse one. 

Man, it may be asserted, is the only animal able 
to amuse himself; and since this faculty has been 
exclusively bestowed upon him, he is surely guilty 
of a sort of ingratitude — even of impiety — if he 
does not exercise it with sense and discretion. 

Moralists may preach, and fanatics may rail, but 
true philosophy applauds more heartily a genial and 
clever man of the world who amuses himself than 
the grim-visaged individual who has never known 
a taste of real enjoyment or pleasure. 

And this is easily understood, because, although 
one can tolerate, and perhaps admire, religious 
ascetics, it is otherwise with the carping, joyless, 
and eminently respectable crowd of individuals 
quite incapable of appreciating the joys of life. 
Such people seem to have come into the world 
during some cold, bleak, gloomy day. They grow 
up in the same cold, bleak atmosphere, and live in 
it all their lives. Their pettiness appears in every- 

1 



2 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

thing they do or say. You may see it in their 
buying and in their selHng, in their talk and in 
their actions. In reahty, these poor creatures 
should arouse pity rather than dislike — since, if they 
look back, they can scarcely recall a single green 
spot in their lives. Most of them have made glad 
no single heart, nor shed one ray of sunshine upon 
man, woman, or child. All that can be said of 
them is that they are born, they live, and they die, 
and as soon as the grave closes over them they are 
forgotten. 

Such people despise amusement. They do not 
agree with, any more than they can understand, 
those ancients who held that they had lost a day if 
it were passed without laughter. 

When their last hour comes, not one of them 
can say with honest pride, as did Rabelais while his 
friends were weeping around his death-bed: "Thank 
God, if I were to die ten times over I should never 
make you cry half so much as I have made you 
laugh." 

There is no reason why any man, even one who 
works hard, should not enjoy the lighter side of 
life ; if he fail to do so, he shows a lack of vitality 
and intelligence. 

The Due de Duras, observing Descartes seated 
one day at a luxurious table, cried out, " What ! 
do philosophers indulge in dainties?" "Why not?" 
replied Descartes. " Do you think that Nature 
produced all her good things for fools ?" 

Some men, however, have a longing for too large 
a share of these same good things, and are content 
to be mere drones. There is, indeed, a similarity 



A JOYOUS BUCCANEER 3 

between mankind and the bees, not all of whom 
follow the hardworking example of the hive-bee, 
which, satisfied to live in a socialistic community, 
lays up stores of honey. In this industrious species 
the male has been reduced to something of the 
cypher to which apparently some female re- 
formers wish to reduce man — he possesses no 
power or initiative, and is allowed but very 
limited scope in his love-affairs. 

Far happier is the lot of that roving buccaneer of 
the garden — the burly, velveted bumble-bee — who, 
with only his whims to guide him, so joyously sails 
the seas of clover. 

As an American poet* has so well sung, no 
amorous restrictions exist for him : 

" He dares to boast along; the coast 
The beauty of Highland Heather, 
How he and she, with night on the sea, 
Lay out on the hills together. 

" His morals are mixed, but his will is fixed ; 
He prospers after his kind. 
And follows an instinct compass — sure 
The philosophers call blind. 

" And that is why, when he comes to die. 
He'll have an easier sentence 
Than someone I know, who thinks just so, 
And then leaves room for repentance." 

It is pleasant to think that no restrictive 
measures can ever cloud the existence of this 
joyous insect, who will continue to lead his devil- 
may-care existence as long as his species lasts. 

* In " Songs from Vagabondia," by Bliss Carman and 
Richard Hovey. 



4 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

In this respect, at least, he is more fortunate than 
the man of pleasure, who already seems to have 
been pretty well crushed out of existence. Modern 
civilization is cold and unsympathetic to a 
laughter-loving nature and roving ways ; besides 
which, at the present time an individual who has no 
serious occupation, whether millionaire or pauper, 
is apt to be despised. 

Rightly, no doubt, every man is now supposed to 
justify his existence by doing something. A number 
of modern occupations, however, are even more 
pernicious than mere idleness. Business in the City, 
for instance, occasionally borders closely upon swind- 
ling ; while philanthropy is sometimes only a pretext 
for meddling with other people's affairs. Altruism, 
indeed, has become a profession, and ardent apostles 
of social reform, no matter what their methods, are 
sure to gain the approbation of many. 

But in past days it was different, and the idler, 
who is now looked upon with a certain amount of 
contempt, had a good deal his own way — at least, 
in London and Paris. If he was a rich man, he 
often exercised considerable political power. One 
hundred years ago the avowed object of a certain 
number was the pursuit of pleasure — an ideal which 
to-day, when frankly expressed, provokes a torrent 
of contemptuous condemnation. 

The most inveterate pleasure-seeker who ever 
lived was probably " Old Q." So much has been 
written of him — about his love of the fair sex, his 
careful diet as an old man, and his baths of asses' 
milk — that it would be superfluous to dwell in this 
place upon his career. For public opinion this 



"OLD Q" 5 

nobleman had the most profound contempt ; it 
never troubled him in the least. 

He was not a stupid man, far from it. Clever 
and calculating, indeed, he imparted a cold-blooded 
common sense into his pleasures worthy of a 
modern American magnate of the Trusts. 

As a young man he had seen so much rascality 
that the whole of humanity except " Mie-Mie," 
whom (like George Selwyn) he believed to be his 
daughter, seemed to him nothing but a mass of 
stupid or evil pawns, to be moved hither and thither 
about the chess-board of life by anyone possessed 
of brains. 

He looked upon mankind as composed pretty 
much of puppets. When they were movable, he 
pulled them by the particular string which moved 
them ; when they were not useful, he turned coolly 
aside and thought of them no more. 

Abuse and censure left him profoundly indif- 
ferent ; conventional Anglo-Saxon morality, which 
he regarded as based entirely on lies, he despised ; 
women he treated as means to pleasure, and 
men simply as creatures who could all be bribed, 
frightened, or coerced. 

In some respects " Old Q " was unfortunate, 
for, had his life not lain in such pleasant and easy 
places, he would probably have accomplished much. 
As it is, his memory has been handed down to us as 
that of a mere debauchee and valetudinarian, who 
contrived to bring selfishness to its highest pitch of 
perfection. 

In the earlier part of the last century there were 
quite a number of aristocratic viveurs, who, whilst 



6 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

not as vicious as the famous Duke of Queensberry, 
took pretty much his view of Hfe. They did not 
quite understand why they should be troubled about 
anything ; they got the cream of life, and felt secure 
against worldly misfortune. Many were clever 
men in their own way, and did not mind spending 
money at opportune moments by helping useful 
men who were in straits. They knew that the 
support of intelligent people likely to rise was of 
value, and that public opinion, at times likely to 
be troublesome, required a system of well -devised 
checks. 

Hostile criticism disturbed them but little. They 
knew that they had only to wait a short while, and 
see the world come fawning back to their feet as 
meekly as ever. Unsuccessful people they rather 
despised, being imbued with a well-founded idea 
that the mainspring of power was money, and that 
people who did not know how to get money or to 
keep it were of small account. 

Many a one was a good man of business, though 
people who did not know a great deal of him would 
hardly have believed it. Not a few were con- 
summate masters of all those arts which foil an 
adversary and put inquiry oif the scent, till it goes 
hunting elsewhere in sheer weariness. When pos- 
sible they never said either " Yes " or " No " dis- 
tinctly, for they knew the irresistible spell which 
lies in courteous delay. A great asset of this class 
was a useful solicitor, who would never act without 
his client's instructions, and, of course, the client 
would never act till he had consulted the man of 
law. When occasion called, the latter was expert 



THE OLD ARISTOCRAT 7 

at writing formal letters about nothing, containing 
polite references to other letters of the same purport. 
The result was that, in the end, his correspondents 
usually found themselves in an inextricable maze, out 
of which it was difficult to get. In extreme cases, 
queer things were done through third parties ; and if 
people were so wrong-headed as to get angry, they 
found themselves face to face with all sorts of un- 
pleasant predicaments, whilst the individual really 
concerned could never be brought to book. 

Many of the old Peers who had led lives of 
uninterrupted ease and enjoyment were fine-looking 
men, who could not possibly have avoided being 
taken for anything else than aristocrats. 

Victorian writers have well described the appear- 
ance of this type — his starched cravat of check 
pattern, in fine cambric, propping up collars like 
the blades of hatchets. His boots were polished as 
brightly as mirrors with blacking made from a recipe 
handed down from the days of the dandies. Usually 
he wore straps and a blue frock-coat, well buttoned 
over a very stately figure, upright as a dart, and 
showing signs of a spell in the Guards. There 
was not a crease nor a wrinkle in his dress from 
top to toe. Such jewelry as he wore, though 
costly, was simple and refined. A Breguet watch, 
with a chain of good design, two or three rings — 
amongst them a finely-cut signet — and a valuable 
pin, together with some costly studs and beautiful 
waistcoat buttons in the evening, accorded admir- 
ably with his well-groomed appearance. His 
equipages were faultless in taste. The quiet, 
unobtrusive brougham which waited for him of an 



8 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

afternoon at his Club was a model of easy-carriage 
building, and his horses matched to a hair and had 
the most perfect manners. 

Life went very pleasantly with an aristocrat of 
this sort. He had always had convenient people 
ready to save him trouble, and all he regretted — 
when he regi'etted anything — was that the hand of 
Time could not be prevented from moving for- 
ward. 

Modern changes, however, which allowed " low " 
people to get into Parliament, were little to his 
taste. He invariably deplored the passing of the 
good old days, when gentlemen disposed of pocket 
boroughs, and when the Reform Bill had not yet 
shifted the balance of power to the electorate. 

He remembered the halcyon times when com- 
fortable sinecures abounded, and when he could 
have sent his butler to Parliament by the vote 
of his steward, so that he might keep a rotten 
borough warm till his agent had got the regulation 
seven thousand pounds for it from some wealthy 
purchaser. His latter years were saddened because 
he could not always bring in his candidates and 
had no means of being perfectly sure that his 
tenants would vote straight. 

" If that's what you call progress," he would 
remark drily, " I think the sooner we hear the last 
of it the better." 

Such aristocratic pleasure-seekers, however, were 
often men endowed with sound common sense ; 
and as a rule they did nothing to scandalize society 
at large. They were essentially decorous by nature, 
and when they indulged in follies or vices took 



BORN RUINED 9 

good care that they should not arouse attention in 
troublesome quarters. 

Very different were the spendthrifts who thrust 
their extravagances before the public gaze, eating 
their corn and drinking their wine before vintage 
or harvest. 

Most of these heirs of unfulfilled renown were 
feather-brained men, who, exposed in youth to 
pernicious environment, passed their last years in 
a very uncomfortable manner. 

Not a few who were deemed to be rich men had 
the excuse of being really born ruined through the 
extravagance of their ancestors, a fact which they 
only realized when no more money could be raised 
upon the estates of which they knew so little. 

Very little effort seems to have been made in 
old days to give young sprigs of nobility a training 
likely to fit them for their position in life ; and in 
the case of an heir to great wealth, extravagance 
was regarded as quite a natural thing, and even, to 
some extent, as deserving of approval. 

Occasionally, however, efforts were made to keep 
young men from getting into mischief. 

About the most whimsical scheme ever devised 
was that imagined by a Duke of Argyll who, 
knowing that his illegitimate son, whom he put into 
the Guards, could not live comfortably on his pay, 
acted as follows : 

Every morning the young officer found upon his 
chest of drawers a clean shirt, a pair of stockings 
ditto, and also a guinea. This extraneous allowance 
was meant to prevent him from gaming. But the 
sharks knew his connections, and, according to 



10 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

sporting phraseology, "had him to rights" — in a 
word, they tickled the Captain for a thousand. The 
Duke heard all about this disaster ; but took no 
notice of it, till his son's dejected appearance made 
some misfortune apparent. " Jack," said he, one 
day, at dinner, " what is the matter with you ?" 
The Captain changed colour, and at last reluctantly 
acknowledged what had happened. " Sir," said His 
Grace, "you do not owe a farthing to the black- 
guard ; my steward settled it with him this morning 
for ten guineas, and he thought himself lucky to get 
that, onlj?" saying that ' he was glad he had come 
oiFso well.'" 

Some few spoke out very bluntly to their spend- 
thrift relations. 

The Earl of Peterborough, writing to a wild 
young fellow, gave the true style of censure, laconic, 
forcible, yet comprehensive : "A house in town ! 
— A house in the country ! — Hounds in Norfolk ! — 
Horses at Newmarket ! — A lady at Wimbledon ! — 
You idiot ! where, with all this, will your estate be ?" 

Such cases, however, were exceptions. Rich 
young fellows, as a rule, found people only too 
ready to help them along the road to ruin. In this 
respect, things have changed but little ; the folly of 
indulgent parents and guardians still turns out many 
a spendthrift, and many an individual finds himself 
eventually confronted by misery owing to lessons of 
extravagance learnt in the nursery and at school. 

There is no more perilous ordeal through which a 
young man can pass than that of being condemned 
to pass his youth in the sunshine of unshadowed 
prosperity. Frequently, his eyes blinded by a too 



SPENDTHRIFTS 11 

untempered brilliance, he becomes smitten with a 
moral sunstroke. 

When, in addition to having been spoilt in child- 
hood, a young man, adrift on the boundless ocean 
of ignorance, finds himself possessed of large means 
and surrounded by plenty of not very scrupulous 
persons ready to assist him to get rid of them in a 
pleasant manner, it is not extraordinary that in the 
course of a few years he should land himself in 
straitened circumstances. 

Second thoughts — those adopted children of 
experience — occasionally save him ; and since idle- 
ness — that great Pacific Ocean of life — has ceased 
to be the ideal of the well-to-do class, the modern 
man of pleasure often finds salvation in occupation 
of a healthy or absorbing kind. 

Idleness and lack of occupation were the main 
causes which produced spendthrift bucks, whilst the 
inheritance of great wealth at an early age was 
another. 

The man who is obliged to be constantly employed 
to earn the necessaries of life and to support his 
family knows not the unhappiness he prays for 
when he desires wealth and idleness. To be con- 
stantly busy is to be always happy. A proof of 
this is that persons who have suddenly acquired 
wealth, broken up their active pursuits, and begun 
to live at their ease, often waste away and die in a 
very short time. 

People who have worked hard all their lives 
are at sea without some regular occupation. Their 
existence then often becomes a mere effort to get 
rid of life without dying. Man must be employed 



12 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

at something. Without interests, indeed, Ufe is joy- 
less. The tcedium vitce and the insupportable listless- 
ness which arise from the want of something to do, 
soon blunt, if they do not destroy, the finer faculties 
of our nature ; for, having nothing to do, we soon 
become fit for nothing. 

A life of perpetual sameness, even if that same- 
ness be luxurious ease, is little better than being in 
a dungeon. Nothing is more difficult to endure. 
It is recorded of a gentleman who shot himself that 
the only reason given in a letter he left behind was 
that he was tired of buttoning every morning and 
unbuttoning every night. 

The great secret of life is to have something con- 
genial to do. People who are always busy and take 
pleasure in some daily task are the least disturbed 
by the vicissitudes of existence. To be wealthy and 
idle shows lack of brains. 

Few idle and rich people are ever really con- 
tented. They are petulant, fretful, irascible. Nature 
and Art appear to have few attractions for them. 
No wonder that under such conditions the springs 
of life rust out. 

The lack of necessity for effort, which is often the 
result of great inherited wealth, also seems to paralyze 
the mental qualities. Individuals who have never 
been obliged to do any work easily acquire an 
entirely false outlook upon existence. They come, 
in time, to regard their prosperity as the result of 
some mysterious superiority over their fellow- 
creatures : 

'* How easy 'tis, when Destiny proves kind, 
With full-spread sails to run before the wind !" 




e4 o 



CUTTING A DASH 13 

On the other hand, how easy is the descent from 
affluence to poverty ! What degradations and 
criminahties has this not entailed ! 

The ideal of what is vulgarly known as " cutting 
a dash " did the harm in most cases ; the ideal of 
mere idleness — though of course a very unworthy 
one — was not so pernicious in its effects. Indeed, 
it may be questioned whether idleness has produced 
as much evil as is generally supposed. Although 
Vice, considered in the abstract, may be, and often 
is, engendered in idleness, it must quit its cradle 
and cease to be idle the moment it becomes 
efficiently vicious. 

As a matter of fact, in the stagnant abyss of a 
vacuous life, just as the most salutary things 
produce no good, so do the most noxious effect 
comparatively little evil ; and this is why — in the 
writer's opinion at least — the man of pleasure, not 
infrequently the very incarnation of sloth, has been 
too hardly treated by moralists unable to regard 
the world from a tolerant and broad point of 
view. 

The pleasure-seeker has in many cases been a 
man who indirectly has benefited those with whom 
he has come in contact ; many a one, though careless 
and reckless, has been full of good-nature and kindly 
feeling. Many a one has suffered from the exercise 
of unlimited generosity. Indeed, when all con- 
siderations are taken into account, it is probably 
doubtful whether he has not, in his own peculiar 
fashion, unwittingly perhaps, played a useful part 
in the great drama of life. 

Nor have his last years always been clouded by 



14 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

the consequences of that mental instability which 
is the chief characteristic of his type. 

His sufferings as an old man have for the most 
part been overdrawn. 

The true viveur as an old man is often far 
from morose : by the irony of fate, if possessed of 
any brains, he may be happier in the autumn of 
his life than many who have spent their best 
days in self-sacrificing effort. Looking back upon 
past years, he can recall the queer scenes and 
amusing characters it has been his lot to know. 
Or perhaps a lively recollection of all the pretty 
faces that have crossed his path may revive 
memories of certain pleasant summer days and 
joyous evenings passed when youth was at the 
prow and pleasure at the helm. But this is 
because the true pleasure-seeker, though his hair 
may fall off or turn grey, his sight fail and his 
limbs weaken, never really grows old ; and, be he 
never so broken down or feeble, his pulse will 
quicken and the blood course more swiftly through 
his veins at the sound of bright, sparkling music — 
at the sight of a pretty face. Then, for a few 
moments, his careless youth, as it were, returns ; 
and who shall say that the recollection does not 
make him bear the weight of years with more ease ? 

If he is intelligent, he will have learnt that the 
world is a pleasant place for the wealthy and wily ; 
but that it nevertheless abounds with pitfalls, 
snares, and brambles. 

If he muse over life, he will realize how man is 
but a strange mixture of all kinds of materials, 
grave to-day, and gay to-morrow ; in the depths of 



HUMAN DESTINY 15 

despondency this moment, and sailing in the car of 
hope the next. A queer compound, indeed ! 

" At ten, a child ; at twenty, wild ; 
At thirty, tame — if ever ; 
At forty, wise ; at fifty, rich ; 
At sixty, good — or never." 

It is human destiny always to be longing for 
something, and the gratification of one set of 
wishes but prepares the unsatisfied soul for the 
conception of another. The child of a year old 
wants little but food and sleep ; and no sooner is 
he supplied with sufficient allowance of either of 
those very excellent things, than he begins 
whimpering — or yelling, it may be — for the other. 
At three, the young urchin becomes enamoured of 
sugar-plums and tarts. At six, his imagination 
runs on kites, marbles, and tops, and an abundance 
of playtime. At ten a boy is ready for school, 
having got tired of toys, bird-nesting, and black- 
berry-hunting. At fifteen he wants a hunter. 
At twenty, he wishes to cut a dash, whilst love 
and sport occupy his mind. At twenty-five he 
usually wants a wife ; at thirty, he not infrequently 
longs to be single again. The rest of his life is 
passed either in making both ends meet or in 
adding to his fortune. 

This description, of course, applies mainly to the 
individual who leads a regular life. The man of 
pleasure as a rule experiences many vicissitudes. 

Not infrequently the extravagances of his youth 
hamper him throughout the rest of his existence ; 
but — in spite of worry and trouble — if he has ever 
known what the joy of living really is, he will 



16 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

always have a hankering for the delights which 
appealed to him as a young man. 

About the best instance of a patrician viveur of 
this kind was the Prince de Ligne, who even as an 
old man retained a capacity for keenly enjoying 
life. 

At the Congress of Vienna, though well stricken 
in years, he was conspicuous for his good-humour, 
and showed himself delighted with everything. 
" Le Congres danse," said he, alluding to the gaiety 
which then prevailed throughout the Kaiser Stadt. 
How different was the attitude of the old cynic 
Talleyrand, who, when asked how the negotiations 
were proceeding, merely rubbed his lame leg ! with 
him, also, love of amusement never became totally 
extinct. 

As a matter of fact, our passions never wholly 
die. Often, in the last cantos of life's romance, they 
rise up again and do battle, like the heroes in old- 
fashioned books, who have been quietly inurned, 
and ought to be turned to dust. 

A certain number of the men of pleasure of the 
past deserved no sympathy. These were the so- 
called splendid sinners who, leading despicable 
lives, were utterly careless of all the disastrous 
consequences of their escapades. The type in 
question has probably never been better described 
than by Samuel Warren, an author who, though 
he enjoyed great popularity in the last century, is 
little read to-day. 

" Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven," 
was the motto of such a debauchee who, neither 
stupid nor ill-educated, perversely took a sort of 



THE VICIOUS BUCK 17 

Satanic delight in the consciousness of being an 
object of regret and wonder amongst those who 
recognized and admired his mental gifts. Hand- 
some, and possessed of attractive manners, rich, 
and with every social advantage, he deliberately did 
all he could to nullify the gifts which fortune had 
lavished upon him, till gradually his intellectual 
faculties were palsied and benumbed ; and, having 
vitiated and depraved his whole system both 
physical and mental, he was often, at thirty, 
broken in health, mind, and pocket. 

The type in question has now, I fancy, dis- 
appeared ; calculating vice being eclipsed by mere 
foolishness. Rich young men of the present day, 
however, like the spendthrifts of the past, continue 
to indulge in reckless waste of money ; and once 
the taste has been acquired, it is so powerful as to 
reassert itself even after the victim has been in dire 
financial straits. In the days of the mining boom 
in California, one lucky spendthrift, who suddenly 
found himself possessed of six or seven thousand 
pounds — having filled his pockets with twenty-dollar 
gold pieces — on his arrival in the nearest town, pro- 
ceeded to a " bar-room " and treated " the crowd " 
to champagne. The company present being unable 
to consume all the bar-keeper's stock, assistance was 
obtained from without, and the passers-by were 
compelled to come in. Still the supply held out, 
and not another drink could anyone swallow. In 
this emergency the ingenious giver of the treat 
ordered every glass belonging to the establishment 
to be brought out and filled. Then, raising his 
stick, with one fell swoop he knocked the army 

2 



18 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

of glasses off the counter. One hamper of cham- 
pagne, however, yet remained, and, determined not 
to be beaten, he ordered it to be opened and placed 
upon the floor, and jumping in, stamped the bottles 
to pieces with his heavy boots — severely cutting his 
shins, it is said, in the operation. But although 
the champagne was at last finished, he had a 
handful of gold -pieces to dispose of, and walking 
up to a large mirror worth several hundred dollars, 
which adorned one end of the room, he dashed 
a shower of heavy coins against it and shivered it 
to pieces. The hero of this story returned to the 
mines in the following spring without a cent, and 
was afterwards obliged to eke out a precarious live- 
lihood by working as a common labourer. 

By way of counterbalancing this, it must be ex- 
plained that such a case is not without its effective 
contrast. Another spark, who had disposed of his 
fortune, emigrated to a settlement in the back- 
woods, and became a drinking-shop keeper, in 
which capacity, by the exercise of original methods, 
he did very well. In due time he was made a 
magistrate, and it is pleasing to learn that, when- 
ever there was excessive drinking or fighting on his 
premises, he would issue a warrant, apprehend 
the culprits, and try them on the spot ; while, 
besides fining them, he would make the men treat 
each other to " make it up," and so settle the 
dispute. 

That some of the spendthrifts, who, after a 
riotous career, went abroad to repair their shattered 
fortunes, were fully equal to any situation, is 
shown ill the following story : 



A DISCONCERTING REPLY 19 

A young fellow of this sort found himself obliged 
to share a state-room with a thoroughbred from the 
wilds. In the morning, while still lying in his 
bunk, he beheld his dressing-case open before his 
companion, who was making a minute investigation 
of its contents. Having completed the examina- 
tion, the wild-man next proceeded coolly to select 
the tooth-brush, and therewith to bestow on his 
long yellow fangs an energetic scrubbing. The 
Englishman said not a word, but getting up, having 
gravely set the basin on the floor and soaped one of 
his feet, he took the tooth-brush and applied it 
vigorously to his toes and toe-nails. " You dirty 
fellow !" exclaimed the astonished man from the 
wilds ; " what the mischief are you doing that for ?" 
" It's the brush I always do that with," was the 
disconcerting reply. 

Years ago I remember being told of a rich young 
man at one of the Universities, who was in the 
habit of substituting champagne bottles — full ones, 
too —for the wooden pins in a bowling-alley. The 
progress of years has apparently entirely changed 
his disposition, for the last time I saw his name 
in print was as the backer of a futile piece of 
legislation designed to make England moral by 
Act of Parliament. 

The real man of pleasure loves gaiety and 
enjoyment all his life ; the sham one, after indulg- 
ing in wild eccentricity in youth, settles down 
into a morose old age — intolerant and narrow- 
minded. 

Another variety of the type remains bright and 
cheerful only just as long as prosperity smiles on 



20 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

his plans and wishes ; but the moment trouble 
comes he grows limp as a wet rag. Often, while 
the other members of their family are tugging and 
sweating to give the wheel another turn, these wet 
rags fold themselves up and slip away quietly 
into a corner, where they lie down and watch 
the proceedings until all is serene and lovely 
again. At this point, of course, they appear once 
more upon the scene, and bravely help to bear his 
self-inflicted burdens. 

Passions, like wild horses, when properly trained 
and disciplined, are capable of being applied to the 
noblest purposes ; but when allowed to have their 
own way they become dangerous in the extreme. 

Many men of fair intellect, who might have 
had useful careers, have been driven into unre- 
strained indulgence in pleasure by some great 
sorrow, such as being thrown over by a sweet- 
heart, or the loss of a beloved relative or friend. 
Prompted by an irrepressible instinct to fly from 
sorrow, they drift into fixing their minds upon 
some frivolous external occupation, such as gaming 
or the Turf, in order to divert their thoughts from 
gloomy channels where madness seems to lie. 
An individual of this mental disposition has been 
well described by a French writer as " un homme 
qui se sent poursuivi, et qui fouette le cheval qu'un 
ami lui a prete, galopant pour la vie." 

The environment of a rich and youthful pleasure- 
seeker is too often highly conducive to his down- 
fall. Few of this class, unless they are shrewd 
beyond their years, when in the haunts of pleasure, 
can distinguish between a rogue and a gentleman, 



GENTLEMEN 21 

for many harpies and sharpers are superficially 
polished. Cunning schemes for making money by 
speculation and the Turf are put forward to cap- 
tivate the novice ushered into the midst of life. 
He longs to be prematurely classed as a clever man 
of the world, and flatters himself that he has found 
not only the society which suits his taste, but the 
means of supporting himself in it. 

According to an old definition, any man is a 
gentleman who pays his tailor's bill. The correct- 
ness of that definition would appear to be open 
to doubt, for the name has been most liberally 
bestowed on dandies and sharpers, wealthy trades- 
men and sporting men. 

The society of so-called sporting men has ruined 
many a fine young fellow, who, starting as a fool, 
has in time become a knave. 

If a man would keep both integrity and inde- 
pendence free from temptation, let him keep out 
of debt. As Benjamin Franklin said : " It is hard 
for an empty bag to stand upright." 

Nature, in making up the pudding of the human 
mind, may not be inaptly compared to a cook, 
mixing together her various ingredients, but deal- 
ing out some with too heavy a hand, and dispensing 
others too sparingly. 

Many men, though endowed by nature with 
a competent share of common sense, and even of 
useful talent, come to no good, the reason being 
the defective mixing of the ingredients spoken of 
above. One fault, when too strongly developed, 
has sometimes been a man's destruction : the most 
dangerous, perhaps, of all is inability to say " No." 



22 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

The man or woman able, when necessary, to 
utter this sturdy monosyllable is possessed of 
strong, serviceable moral power. Those who are 
weak enough to yield to persuasion against their 
conviction get involved in troubles which too often 
lead to their ruin. On the other hand, people 
radically obstinate are not morally strong, because 
they more frequently than otherwise act from a 
doggedness of disposition which sees nothing good 
out of their own sphere or nature. Such people 
are dangerous, and furnish a fair proportion of 
human failures. 

Generally speaking, it is more honourable for a 
rich man to become poor than for a poor one to 
become rich ; for men mostly get ruined through 
their good qualities and enriched through their bad 
ones. This, however, does not apply to dissipated 
youths who think they will grow rich by playing 
cards and betting. 

A young man who thinks he is going to make 
money by matching his brains against those of his 
elders generally ends badly. The nature of the 
financial transactions in which he becomes involved 
is more or less bound to have a deteriorating 
effect upon his character. Before long, becom- 
ing accustomed to see large sums changing hands, 
he grows less considerate of the value of money, 
and consequently more disposed and prepared to 
plunge rapidly and recklessly into the vortex of 
dissipation. 

High spirits and ready cash are for a time very 
efficient in banishing care. A reveller banishes all 
thoughts of the worries and regrets which generally 



TWENTY-ONE 23 

arise when the roar of the carousal has ceased and 
the last bowl has been drained. 

No period in a young man's life is looked forward 
to with so much impatience as the hour which ends 
his minority ; and in after years none is looked 
back to with so much regret. Freedom appears to 
a young man as the brightest star in the firmament 
of his existence, and is never lost sight of until the 
goal for which he has been so long travelling is at 
length reached. When the mind and the spirit 
are young, the season of manhood has a vision of 
brightness from the future which nothing can dim 
but cold reality. 

The busy world is stretched out before our boy- 
hood like the exhibition of mechanical automata. 
In the distance we see nothing but the most 
attractive part of the picture — the anguish of dis- 
appointment and failure are hidden — old age and 
poverty lie obscured in the background — everything 
is bathed in a roseate glow — which, alas ! soon fades 
away, and is obscured by gloom, for the season of 
youth vanishes like the reflection of a moonbeam 
from a placid pool. 

For a time youthful ardour weaves flowery gar- 
lands to delight the fancy, and life is a " perpetual 
feast of nectared sweets," existence a luscious wine 
served in a jewelled chalice, which neither care, nor 
sorrow, nor sin, seems likely to dash to the ground. 
Why break such a glorious spell ? It is not for 
youth to dwell with sadness upon its facile joys, or 
ponder sadly over the falsity of dreams of unchecked 
and continuous pleasure. 

What matters it to a rich young fellow that he 



24 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

is ignorant and uneducated? Wherever he goes 
he is sure to find life easy. 

There are two languages that are universal — the 
one, money ; and the other, love. All men under- 
stand the one ; and woman — who, though she may 
divide our sorrows and double our joys, not 
unusually quadruples our expenses — often under- 
stands both. 

Nearly all the old philosophers have denounced 
and ridiculed feminine attractions as evanescent, 
worthless, and mischievous ; but, alas ! while preach- 
ing against them, they have none the less been 
their slaves. Few men, old or young, are able 
to withstand " the sly, smooth witchcraft of a fair 
young face " — that beauty which has been cynically 
defined as woman's most forcible letter of recom- 
mendation. 

And no matter what his faults may be, she is 
not infrequently only too ready to be the first love 
of a wealthy and youthful heir. 

She herself, let it be remarked, seldom suffers 
from the particular malady in question. As a 
rule, the long alphabet of her affections is without 
any distinct end or beginning. She mounts by 
insensible gradations from dolls, and kittens, and pet 
brothers, to the zenith of passion ; to descend by the 
same insensible gradations from the zenith of 
passion through pet brothers to tabby cats. A 
first kiss is a landmark in a boy's life, but no such 
event marks for woman the transition from girlhood 
to the sudden maturity of passion ; she has been 
kissing, and purring, and fondling, and petting 
from her cradle, and she will pet, and fondle, and 



BORN TIRED 25 

purr, and kiss to her grave. Good luck to her for 
doing so, and for accompHshing what, in spite of 
the utterances of cranks and faddists, is the destiny 
for which an all-wise Nature placed her in the 
world. 

The first love of a youthful spendthrift unfor- 
tunately is, nine times out of ten, a very unsatis- 
factory one, all of a piece with his thoroughly 
ill-ordered life. 

More or less at the beck and call of some 
worthless girl, he runs about with no definite 
object in view. Saying the same words every day 
to the same person is decidedly not living ; it is a 
mere state of existence. And at the bottom of all 
there is but to be found the bitterest of all social 
miseries — unmitigated boredom and weariness. 

Many a young man becomes so satiated with 
follies that he reaches the state not inaptly described 
as looking as if he had been born tired. 

" The silly little chap !" said a languid dandy to 
a friend who was boasting that his little boy — aged 
two — had learnt to walk with great ease ; "if I 
had known as much when I was a child as I do 
now, I'm hanged if I would have ever learnt to 
walk at all, and then I should always have had some 
cursed fool to carry me." 

Youth in dressing-gown and slippers, dawdling 
over breakfast at noon, is a very decrepit, ghastly 
image of that youth who sees the sun blush over 
the mountains, and the dew sparkling upon 
blossoming hedgerows. 

" Strange destiny 1" cries the spendthrift. "Always 
some will-o'-the-wisp before my path — nothing 



26 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

real !" Vaguely he realizes the severe punishment of 
Tantalus, and becomes wretched through sorrow, 
boredom, and regret. 

" From his youth upwards to the present day, 
When vices more than years have made him grey ; 
When riotous excess with wasteful hand, 
Shakes Iife*'s frail glass, and hastes each ebbing sand ; 
Unmindful from what stock he drew his birth, 
Untainted with one deed of real worth." 

Too lazy to think and too stupid to learn, unculti- 
vated men of pleasure are a nuisance to themselves 
and to everyone else as well. 

The conversation of such men was tersely summed 
up by Dr. Beaufort, who, being asked by a priest 
whether he knew the celebrated spendthrift Lord 
Barry more, replied : " Intimately, most intimately. 
We dine together almost every day when his 
lordship is in town." " What do you talk about ?" 
" Eating and drinking." " What else ?" " Drinking 
and eating." 

These two topics, together with discussions as to 
the merits of race-horses and speculations concern- 
ing the good looks, virtue, or lack of virtue, of certain 
members of the fair sex, are about the only ones 
which arouse any interest in the genuine nincompoop 
— that evergreen which does not change from one 
generation to another. 

Give a man brains and riches, and he is a 
king ; give him brains without riches, and he is a 
slave ; give him riches without brains, and he is a 
fool. 

The pursuit of pleasure by a wealthy idiot is 
sure to prove an unprofitable business ; the more 



PLEASURE 27 

he tries to catch it, the more easily it eludes him. 
Pleasure, indeed, should never be made a business ; 
let him who approaches it in this way reflect on 
the words of Lord Chesterfield : 

" I have run the silly rounds of pleasure, and 
have done with them all. I have enjoyed all the 
pleasures of the world : I appraise them at their 
real worth, which is, in truth, very low. Those who 
have only seen their outside always overrate them, 
but I have been behind the scenes, I have seen all 
the coarse pulleys and dirty ropes which move their 
gaudy machines, and I have also seen and smelt 
the tallow candles which illuminate the whole 
decoration, to the astonishment and admiration of 
the ignorant audience. When I reflect on what I 
have seen, what I have heard, and what I have 
done, I can hardly persuade myself that all that 
frivolous hurry and bustle of pleasure in the world 
had any reality ; but I look upon all that is past 
as one of those romantic dreams which opium 
commonly occasions, and I do by no means desire to 
repeat the nauseous dose." 

Pleasure, as Lord Chesterfield said, may be 
unreal, but its after effects are very real indeed. 
A particularly unpleasant one is the impecuniosity 
which assails its too ardent votaries. This is usually 
associated with that " extravagance of poverty " 
which obliges ruined spendthrifts to pay, or rather 
owe, double as much as solvent people for luxuries 
which have to be procured upon credit. 

Fifty or sixty years ago it was considered quite 
a normal thing for a rich young Peer or wealthy 
Squire to be a spendthrift. His education and 



28 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

training often fitted him for little else. Many 
a one was an expert at leading a completely idle 
and vacuous life, and would cheerfully admit that 
he was always bored. His day usually began 
about one, when his valet called him. He then 
took a sort of breakfast attired in a dressing-gown 
and smoking-cap. Though he took in the Morning 
Post and Times, he was not in the habit of looking 
at them, as they bored him — especially the telegrams. 
He dressed before three, and then strolled into the 
Club. This was the worst part of the day, and 
sometimes it bored him dreadfully. When it was 
too boring, he would go round to Truefitt's and 
have his hair brushed. Later he did the Park, 
when, though he flattered himself his turn-out 
was correct, driving bored him awfully too. He 
dined somewhere or other at eight. Dinner cost 
him about £1 15s. His usual hour for going to 
bed was about four. Most young " swells " of this 
kind openly avowed that they had no predilection 
for any profession. One of them declared that if 
he had to choose, he thought he would rather drive 
a hansom, because there seemed less boredom 
about it than about anything else : one would 
not have to get down, and if one wanted to talk, 
one had only to open the hole in the roof of the cab. 
As to politics, the ideas of an individual leading 
this kind of life were amusingly satirized by a 
somewhat severe critic in the late sixties of the 
last century in some evidence supposed to be given 
by a Peer of twenty-three before an imaginary com- 
mittee appointed to inquire into the utility and 
general working capacity of the House of Lords : 




Cog/ c^ {t^ms . a^U/K^. Ikc Sjtre^ iJfffta/g .t 

^tttftMUta C^tfn* •/•*-- oAac »«-y*-M»^ JAaacfe^CW/ 



THE dandies' coat OF ARMS. 
By George Cruikshank. 



AN HEREDITARY LEGISLATOR 29 

" The scion of a noble race said he had been inside 
the House of Peers twice ; thought once was for a 
bet. Had been educated. Had gone to Eton, 
where he had got well kicked with no bad results, 
and then to Oxford. When there, was at Christ 
Church. Did not take a degree, but instead wore 
a velvet cap with a gold tassel, and kept horses. 
Wore also a ribbed silk gown. On high days 
wore a rich figured silk covered with large gold 
patches, and dined at a high table with ' Dons.' 
Spent £5,000 at Oxford, and left when he was 
twenty-one. Yes, he had lots of ancestors. Con- 
sidered it 'great fun' to be an hereditary legislator. 
Did not care what was disestablished as long as it 
was not Tattersalls'. No, did not know there had 
been a row in the Commons about the Irish Church. 
Should vote against the Suspensory Bill, because 
someone he knew wanted a berth over there in 
the clerical line. Has no prejudices on the question. 
Would give the Commissioners long odds on the 
result. Considered the House of Lords a ' grand 
institution.' Saw something about * thanking God 
there was a House of Lords ' in last week's Belts 
Life, and thought it great fun. Should send his 
vote up by proxy. Did not much care what 
happened, as long as it did not interfere with 
grouse-shooting, the Derby Day, or Rotten Row. 
Knew some good fellows in the Commons, though 
he thought they talked too much. Had heard of 
Oliver Cromwell. He ran fifth for the Chester 
Cup in '61." 

It was very unfortunate for the class to which 
they belonged that most aristocratic pleasure- 



30 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

seekers despised politics, under the mistaken im- 
pression that legislation would never affect their 
amusements. In this they were quite wrong, for 
at the present time the tendency of the House of 
Commons to interfere with personal independence 
is a growing evil. Indeed, some phases of pro- 
posed legislation in this direction are as ridiculous 
and unreasonable as forbidding a consumptive 
person to cough. 

At the present time several sports, including 
racing, are threatened. The days are gone when 
the Turf and the gaming-table played a great part 
in a public man's life. The one great business of 
life, however, in spite of all laws or prohibitions, 
will continue to be play. Even those individuals 
who profess to be horrified at the vice of betting 
are continually speculating in the City. In old 
days many a man about town made no secret 
of his vices. Happiness to him meant a good 
book on the Derby — honour, the punctual liqui- 
dation of his betting account, or the settlement 
of his losses at cards. Few habitual gamblers 
are successful in the end. The fate of the plunger 
is usually sad ; if the charm of gambling was only 
less potent, the lesson to be drawn from the decline 
of a gambler's fortunes would be far more effective. 
AVhen years creep on and poverty and misfortune 
dog his path, he ceases to be a spoilt child. The ex- 
travagances of many a popular gambler are tolerated 
as eccentricity, so long as he has money and credit 
to hazard on the chance of a bet ; but when mis- 
fortune steadily dogs his path he soon collapses. 
It is whispered that he has debts of honour, both 



ANCHORING IN THE ATLANTIC 31 

on the Turf and at cards, unpaid and unpayable. 
Before long he becomes the butt of a thousand 
duns, and acquaintances cease to greet him with 
a friendly nod. On the other hand, dependents 
who once stood respectfully uncovered in his 
presence treat him with familiarity and scorn. 
In spite of all this, the vicissitudes of a gambler's 
life have never yet deterred anyone from specu- 
lation. 

Enjoyment battens upon surprises, and delights 
are heightened by doubt. Lady Teazle, who 
lamented that roses did not blow all the year 
round, would have been astonished, probably, to 
hear that she would like roses the less were her 
desire granted. Perpetuity is such an enemy to 
content, that certain spendthrifts, even after having 
been affluent for many years, often retain a positive 
hankering after the old excitement of being once 
more in debt. 

Some are perfectly happy never to be out of it. 
W e often speak of being settled in life ; we may as 
well think of casting anchor in the midst of the 
Atlantic Ocean, or talk of the permanent situation 
of a stone that is rolling downhill. 

Many a youthful heir to a great inheritance has 
been the most unhappy of men. In spite of the 
possession of ample means, not a few on attaining 
their majority have seemed to be the prey of a 
settled melancholy. 

There is an instinct in the heart of man which 
makes him fear a cloudless happiness. It seems, 
indeed, as if he owes to misfortune a tithe of his 
life which, when it is not paid, bears interest, and 



32 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

as time goes on swells a debt which sooner or 
later he must acquit. Perhaps this is why certain 
men lead perfectly happy lives in spite of being 
never free from worry, wliilst the chronic emptiness 
of their pockets in nowise ruffles their serenity. 

An optimist of this kind, enlarging upon the 
blessings of an impecuniosity for which, it should be 
added, he himself alone was to blame, said : *' After 
all, I have much to be thankful for. To begin 
with, I can wear any clothes I like, no matter how 
old or shabby, nor am I troubled with visitors or 
obliged to make calls. Bores do not bore me. 
Sponges cannot haunt my table. Itinerant bands 
do not play opposite my window. I avoid the 
imisance of serving on juries. No one thinks of 
presenting me with a testimonial. No tradesman 
irritates me by asking, ' Is there any other article 
to-day, sir ?' Begging letter- writers leave me alone. 
Impostors know it is useless to attempt to bleed 
me. I practise temperance. I swallow infinitely 
less poison than others. I am saved many a 
deception, many a headache. And, lastly, if I 
have a true friend in the world, I am sure, in a 
very short space of time, to learn it." 

This type of pleasure-seeker, however, is rather 
the exception. It is not every man who can laugh 
up his sleeve when he happens to be out at elbows. 



CHAPTER II 

SPORTING RESORTS — RESTAURANTS — GRAND- 
MOTHERLY LEGISLATION 

In past days there was one respect in which London 
men of pleasure were at a great disadvantage; there 
were no good restaurants. 

In books Hke "Tom and Jerry" the meagre 
references made to the question of cuisine indicate 
that the bucks of that day did not pay any great 
attention to this question. It is to be feared that 
deep potations were more in their line. 

At certain old-world hostelries, like Hatchett's, 
the Blue Posts, Long's, and Limmer's, a good, old- 
fashioned, simple English dinner was always pro- 
curable. French cooking was little known or liked 
in England then. Indeed, everything foreign was 
viewed with great distrust. 

Englishmen themselves bitterly resented being 
called foreigners when they were abroad. Speaking 
of a fracas in which he had been engaged, a regular 
John Bull gave as his reason for assaulting a French- 
man at Calais, he having been called un etraiiger : 
" I did not understand such an impertinence," said 
he, " but a friend who was with me said the words 
meant * a foreigner.' ' A foreigner, you scoundrel!' 
cried I. ' How dare you say a free-born Briton is 
a foreigner !' and I knocked him down." 

In those days, besides being very free with their 

33 3 



34 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

fists, Englishmen were far more robust in their 
tastes than is the case to-day. Prize-fighting, 
cock-fighting, and other rough sports were highly 
popular, the day being closed by a hearty dinner of 
plain, old-fashioned food. This over and the cloth 
removed, an imposing array of decanters would be 
placed upon the highly polished mahogany. Huge 
potations of port would be drained, the evening 
being usually enlivened by song dealing either with 
the pleasures of love or the joys of the chase. 
There was little refinement, which by many old- 
fashioned Englishmen was regarded as being an 
unmanly quality. 

With these ideas prevalent, it was not extra- 
ordinary that French kickshaws, as the excellent 
culinary concoctions of our friends across the 
Channel were contemptuously called, made little 
appeal to the bucks and beaux, a good deal of whose 
existence was passed on the race-course and by the 
ring- side. 

At the same time there existed a certain number 
of epicures, who kept very good cooks and 
thoroughly appreciated refined cookery. 

During the time of the French Revolution a 
young emigre officer, M. d'Aubignac, made quite a 
little fortune in London owing to his skill in mixing 
salads. Almost at the end of his slender resources, 
he was one evening having a modest dinner at a 
West End chop-house, when a party of dandies, 
perceiving his nationality from his dress, came up 
to him, and said very civilly : " Sir, they say your 
countrymen excel in making salads. Will you do 
us the favour of making one ?" 



PROFITABLE SALADS 35 

D'Aubignac consented, and, having obtained the 
requisite materials, set to work. Getting into con- 
versation with the dandies, he let slip that his 
slender means were, for the most part, the result of 
help from the English Government, which gave 
some assistance to the emigres. The result of this 
was that a present of £5 was pressed upon him, and 
some time later (he had given his address) a polite 
request reached him, to come and prepare another 
salad in one of the finest houses in Grosvenor 
Square. Perceiving the chance which lay before 
him, he went, and in return for his services received 
a very comfortable present. His salad was declared 
excellent, and soon his fame as a fashionable salad- 
maker spread all over the West End. Before long 
he was able to set up a carriage, and made regular 
rounds, accompanied by a servant, who carried the 
dainty mahogany box which contained all sorts of 
ingredients, up to that time scarcely known in 
England. In course of time he had a number of 
these boxes made, and realized a considerable sum 
by their sale to clients. So successful was he in his 
curious profession, that when at last he was able to 
return to France, he had amassed a capital of 
several thousand pounds. 

Sixty or seventy years ago French cooking was 
only appreciated by the cultured few. The days 
of the London restaurant were not yet. Men of 
pleasure congregated at sporting hostelries, like 
Limmer's and Long's. In the latter there was at 
times a good deal of private gaming in a room 
known as the " room at the end of the landing," 
where habitues of the hotel could play without fear 



36 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

of being disturbed, and it was said that large 
winners sometimes made the proprietor handsome 
presents. On the other hand, this worthy often 
fed some of his clients when they had no shots in 
their locker, trusting them for payment on the 
chance of a run of luck. 

Some visitors were very difficult to deal with. 
They would neither pay nor go. On one occasion 
the landlord determined to adopt strong measures 
with an especially bad case, and, proceeding to his 
bedroom early in the morning, said : " Now, sir, I 
want you to pay your bill, and you must. I have 
asked for it often enough, and I tell you now that 
you don't leave my house till you pay it." "Good," 
was the reply, "just put that in writing; make a 
regular agreement of it. I'll stay with you as long 
as I live !" 

Some of the old sporting characters were witty 
men. One who had a neat turn for versification, 
happening to be at an hotel, and seeking in vain for 
a candle with which to light himself to his room at 
a late hour, passed a pretty young lady, who had 
two candles, of which she politely offered him one. 
He took it and thanked her, and the next morn- 
ing acknowledged the courtesy in the following 
epigram : 

" You gave me a candle, I gave you my thanks, 
And add, as a compliment justly your due, 
There isn't a girl in these feminine ranks 

Who could, if she tried, hold a candle to you.' 

The queerest characters were certain old-fashioned 
squires who, when in town, fi*equented Hatchett's 
and Long's. 



A PECULIAR BOX 37 

One of them created quite a sensation in the 
coffee-room while dining, eating heartily and drink- 
ing deeply. Each time he emptied his glass he 
made a noise similar to that which a dog might if 
his feelings were excited. Asked whether he had 
any reason for this eccentric behaviour he curtly 
replied : " My doctor orders me to take port wine 
and bark." 

He was more conscientious in following his 
doctor's injunction than a certain roysterer who, on 
enquiry whether he had followed the prescription, 
said, "No! If 1 had I should have broken my 
neck ; for the stuff was so nasty that I threw it 
out of window." 

Not the least curious visitors were officers returned 
from India, where at that time there was much heavy 
drinking. 

" India, my boy," said an Irishman to a friend on 
his arrival at Calcutta, " is jist the finest climate 
under the sun. But a lot of young fellows come out 
here, and they dhrink and they eat, and they eat 
and they dhrink, and they die ; and then they write 
home to their friends a pack o' lies, and say it's the 
climate as has killed 'em." 

The escapades and extravagances of the junior 
officers were sometimes extraordinary. 

After the Indian Mutiny, for instance, one of 
them, arriving at a West End hotel, had amongst 
his luggage a very peculiar-looking box. This so 
excited the curiosity of the chamber-maid that she 
peeped into it ; but she immediately dropped the 
lid with a shriek which alarmed the house. The 
box contained half a Sepoy, embalmed, and looking 



88 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

uncommonly fresh and lively. He had been blown 
away from the gun, and grimly grinned through his 
bushy beard and his hirsute appendages. 

A feature of " Old Long's " was the excellence 
of the whisky and soda supplied there during 
the early eighties. The hotel was noted for this, 
and also for supplying the best devilled soles in all 
London. 

Every West End sporting resort formerly boasted 
one of those famous old Englisli waiters, of whom 
William (of Long's), who died not very many years 
ago, was the last. There must be many who still 
remember the delightful manners and suave de- 
meanour of this admirable servant, whom, it seemed, 
nothing could discomfort or even surprise. Under 
the most trying circumstances his civility never 
abated, whilst his urbanity was proof against all 
manifestations of unreason or ill-temper. 

William, however, was of more refined appearance 
and address than the old English waiter of an earlier 
epoch — of which class the famous John Collins, of 
Limmer's, was the archetype. Rubicund, and not 
infrequently bibulous, such men were the product 
of an age the ways of which were totally different 
from those in favour to-day. 

One of their chief characteristics was the intense 
respect which they cherished for those of their clients 
whom they considered real gentlemen. The stan- 
dard of gentility necessary to ensure their approba- 
tion was not very high. In the " Tom and Jerry " 
days a capacity for taking plenty of wine, and 
liberal tipping, were enough. 

One of these waiters, giving evidence in the courts, 



A REAL GENTLEMAN 39 

cast an amusing sidelight upon the ideas of his class 
as to what constituted gentility. 

'* You say the defendant is no gentleman," said 
counsel. " What makes you think so ?" " 'Cause, 
sir, he gives me sixpence and always says ' Thank 
you,' when I hand him a mutton chop, or even a 
piece of bread. Now, a real gentleman never does 
this ; he hollers out, ' Here, Bill, get me a mutton 
chop, or I'll throw this pepper-box at your head,' 
but he always gives me half-a-crown. You can't 
deceive me with a gentleman, your worship. 'Cause 
why ? I have associated with too many of them in 
my coffee-room and on the race-course." 

One of the most useful qualifications of these 
privileged servants was their marvellous memory 
for faces, and their most useless one their partiality 
for giving clients racing tips which, if followed, 
almost invariably resulted in a loss. Such men 
would be hopelessly out of place in the West End 
restaurant of to-day, for though they possessed a 
number of pecuHar virtues, they entirely lacked 
adaptability. Besides this, owing to their complete 
ignorance of foreign languages, which the old 
school of waiter heartily despised, they would be 
quite unable to deal with the polyglot patrons who 
throng the luxurious palaces where the course of 
modern pleasure takes its way. In connection 
with this subject, nothing is more striking than the 
great change which has taken place in London 
hotels and restaurants within the last twenty-five 
years. After making a somewhat feeble fight, the 
vast majority of old-fashioned houses of refreshment 
have either been forced to shut their doors or just 



40 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

manage to maintain a precarious existence. Except 
where interesting historical associations remain as an 
aUuring bait, the old-fashioned tavern makes no 
appeal to the modern diner-out. One of the most 
conspicuous instances of the change which has 
swept over London is the disappearance of the 
Albion Tavern in Aldersgate Street, which, up to 
comparatively recent years, was a famous resort for 
dining. All sorts of societies used to hold their 
feasts there, as did various regiments. Gradually, 
however, the Albion found itself unable to compete 
with the newer hotels, and its doors had to be closed, 
while its splendid stock of wine was sold at auction. 
Lighter and better prepared food, a constantly 
changing menu, first-class attendance, and the 
growth of temperance, have all contributed to make 
the modern client prefer the cosmopolitan caravan- 
saries to the old English taverns. 

Thirty years ago, there were few cafes run on the 
Continental plan. Romano's, it is true, existed, but 
it was a very small place, best known to the public 
as being the favourite resort of the staff of the 
Sporting Times, which was full of chaff about the 
proprietor, the late Mr. Romano — christened by 
the cheery pink sheet, " The Roman." 

The popularity of the late founder was very great 
among his clients, and his death was much regretted 
by men about town. "Ah," said one of these sadly, 
as he caught sight of the title of a book, " The His- 
tory of the Romanoffs," which a friend was reading, 
"they tell me the place has changed a good deal since 
the old man died. " He thought it was the history of 
Romano's. 



MODERN RESTAURANTS 41 

Though the views of the majority of the fre- 
quenters of this restaurant were very broad, Ro- 
mano's before it was rebuilt was very narrow : so 
much so, indeed, that it was famiharly known as 
the Rifle Gallery. 

The opening of the Savoy in the late eighties 
marked an era in the history of London restaurants. 
Since then the Carlton and the Ritz have further 
added to the comfort and pleasure of those who like 
to dine well amidst artistically designed and pleasant 
surroundings. 

It is a matter for regret that the peaceful and 
quiet Willis's in King Street has ceased to exist. 
Opened in 1893, it at first achieved considerable 
success. The moving spirit in its management 
was Mr. Algernon Bourke, who, in his time, has 
done many things, some of them very well. It 
was intended, I believe, to resemble the defunct 
Amphitryon Club in the matter of cuisine and 
wines ; and, like the latter resort, its frequenters 
mostly belonged to the fashionable world. Besides 
the restaurant proper, there were several private 
rooms, and latterly an unsuccessful experiment was 
made with a supper club. 

The fact is, supper clubs in private rooms are not 
popular with the very people — ladies — for whose 
benefit they are intended. 

Ladies do not care to be cooped up away from 
the general public, or if they wish to sup quietly, 
they prefer to do so in their own or their friends' 
houses. Most of them like to see pretty actresses 
and chorus-girls supping with their admirers. The 
day has long gone by when any but the silliest and 



42 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

most narrow-minded pretend to be shocked at any- 
thing of this sort. 

The great feature of modern London — its excel- 
lent and palatial restaurants — is an entirely modern 
development. Even in the old days of the early 
eighties good French cooking could only be pro- 
cured at the Cafe Royal and the Bristol, and 
perhaps at one or two smaller places, only known 
to a select number of gourmets who devoted their 
time to searching out little hostelries in Soho where 
good fare was to be obtained. At the present day, 
anyone wishing to dine well is fairly embarrassed 
by the variety of choice which lies before him. A 
fact to be remarked is that whilst London restaurants 
have enormously improved, those of Paris, once so 
celebrated for the perfection of their cuisine, have 
deteriorated. The Maison Doree, Caf^ Riche, 
Brebant's, Bignon's, and others well known to the 
pleasure-lovers of the past, have disappeared for 
ever. Voisin's still flourishes, but the Caf^ Anglais 
is soon, I believe, to be offered for sale. The day 
of the moderate -sized French restaurant, indeed, 
seems to be over ; it is said that the Parisians have 
been driven into dining at home by the invasion 
of foreign visitors, who, owing to their love of 
squandering money, have sent up prices all round. 

The worst offenders in this respect are the 
Americans, both from the United States and from 
South America. Many of them do not think they 
have dined well unless an extravagant price has 
been paid for their dinner. 

Formerly almost every restaurant in Paris had 
its special clientele^ people who made a point of 



A BOLD PLAN 43 

coming to dine on certain days. This is now a 
thing of the past. 

The halcyon days of the restaurateur were during 
the Second Empire, when numbers of small 
restaurants were opened. People were then not 
very luxurious, and various devices were adopted to 
attract clients. One of these, carried out in the 
late fifties of the last century, gave rise to a 
lawsuit which at the time created considerable 
amusement. 

A laughable trial then took place in Paris 
between the celebrated Belgian painter, Stevens, 
and one Vandenhall, a restaurateur in the 
Faubourg St. Antoine. Finding few customers, 
the cook applied to the artist, who suggested the 
bold plan of placarding the neighbourhood with — 
" Splendid sausages served at three sous, all hot ! 
Two gold Napoleons inserted in each hundred !" 
Crowds came, there was luck about the house, till 
it was remarked that the nuggets were generally 
found on the plates of a select few. A general row 
was the result, the kitchen was gutted, and the 
splendid signboard, " Saucisson d'Or," was dragged 
down ignominiously. Stevens sued for 15,000 
francs, the value of his " idea," but both litigants 
were laughed out of court, lotteries being illegal. 

London in the past, though not so luxurious as 
it is to-day, was a pleasant enough place for a man 
of pleasure — who, within certain bounds, provided 
his pockets were filled with cash, could do pretty 
much as he liked. Grandmotherly restriction is 
an entirely new thing, and all this early closing of 
restaurants and public-houses, strict censorship of 



44 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

music-halls, and the like, is not at all in accordance 
with the spirit of the London of other days. 

Open-air dancing-places like Vauxhall formerly 
encountered no opposition at all ; in fact, the resort 
in question was looked upon almost as a London 
institution. At the beginning of the last century 
it was particularly popular with fashionable bucks 
and bloods, but in after years it became more 
democratic. In its latter days it was advertised in 
the streets by a dark green chariot of fantastic 
make, in shape like a half-opened shell, tastefully 
ornamented with gilding and pictures, drawn by 
two richly harnessed cream-coloured horses ; on 
the box was a coachman in red and gold, looking 
respectable and almost aristocratic, with his long 
whip on his knee ; and behind him the trumpeters, 
seated in the chariot, proclaimed its advent. This, 
old people remembered as the same Vauxhall 
which, under the Regency, had attracted all the 
wealth, beauty, and fashion of England. 

Though formerly there were no luxurious 
restaurants for supping after the theatres were 
shut, a man about town could betake himself to 
one of the numerous night - houses, like " Kate 
Hamilton's," which abounded round the Haymarket. 
After these had been suppressed, came the night- 
clubs, which, owing to the Act passed by a 
Unionist Government, have also become things 
of the past. No doubt both night - houses and 
night-clubs were far from being edifying resorts, 
but I doubt if they did any particular harm. 

In the days when London was full of rough 
resorts, a young man about town learnt a good 



A USEFUL SONG 45 

deal concerning the seamy side of existence. Not 
a few of the haunts of pleasure were dangerous 
places, and if a young fellow got into them he 
knew what to expect. The writer has known men 
who had had to fight their way out of houses in 
St. John's Wood, poker in hand. 

The nocturnal resorts and "flash kens," which 
the roysterers out for a spree frequented, were no 
bad training in knowledge of human nature, its 
weaknesses and limitations, or resourceful courage. 

No doubt a number of persons came to grief 
through frequenting night- houses and dancing- 
halls, but in all probability they would have come 
to grief had they been forced to pass their time in 
museums and churches. The flabby modern 
theory that vice can be extirpated by ignoring its 
existence, or by chastening the homes of gaiety, is 
one of the most fallacious suggestions of the human 
mind. 

The English of the past, strong and sturdy in 
mind, would have no interference with personal 
liberty ; witness the fate which, in the forties of 
the last century, befell the efforts of a certain 
Scotch fanatic, Sir Andrew Agnew, who asked 
Parliament to coerce the nation into his own 
notion of the virtuous and the godly. His attempt 
to control the morals of the people by State and 
police machinery evoked a storm of sarcasm and 
ridicule, and he and his programme were literally 
snuffed out of existence by a song more coarse 
than comic, the burden of which throughout all 
broad and independent England was, " This is the 
song of Sir Andrew Agnew." But it answered the 



46 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

purpose, and well, for it put the whole army of 
hypocrites to the rout for a very long season. 

Up to the early seventies, pleasure-loving 
Londoners kept later hours than the viveu?'s of 
Paris do to-day. 

Early closing is merely part of our modern 
system of sham moralization, which proceeds on 
the assumption that if you cannot entirely suppress 
an evil, you must see that it is put carefully out 
of sight. 

For the benefit of those no doubt well-meaning 
but entirely misguided persons who imagine that 
the morality of London has been improved by the 
various modern Acts of Parliament designed to 
meddle and interfere with personal liberty, I may 
here say that my conviction, based upon an intimate 
knowledge of the West End since 1883, is that, on 
the whole, vice, if less conspicuous and brutal, is far 
more insidious and even dangerous than in former 
days. Every man about town knows that black- 
mailing abounds. The best friend to the bully and 
the unscrupulous girl or woman is that kind of 
•'reformer " who believes that laws can make people 
moral. Efforts at compulsory moralization, admir- 
able as they may be in theory, are in practice often 
capable of being utilized for the most iniquitous ends. 

As for the closing of restaurants at 12.30, and 
at 12 on Saturday nights, the only wonder is how 
intelligent people consent to submit to such a re- 
striction. In the provinces, owing to an even 
earlier closing hour, things are worse still. 

An amusing sight for the student of humanity 
is at some large public gathering to hear the docile 



NEVER WILL BE SLAVES ! 47 

crowd sing " Rule, Britannia — Britons never will 
be slaves," and then file off to what, amongst the 
less wealthy classes at least, amounts to com- 
pulsory bed, everything being closed by Act of 
Parliament. 

" Never will be slaves," indeed ! Owing to 
superabundant and faddist legislation, there is no 
race so enslaved as the modern English. A striking 
proof of this is that, when the Chief of the Berlin 
Police recently paid a visit to London in order to 
investigate our closing regulations, he declared 
that it was inconceivable that the people of Berlin 
would put up with anything of the sort. 

In promoting faddist legislation, it may be 
added, the Unionists or Conservatives are not one 
whit better than the Radicals. Indeed, probably 
the most monstrous bill ever introduced into the 
House of Commons is a Regulation of Clubs Bill 
for which Mr. S. Roberts, Unionist member for 
the Ecclesall Division of Sheffield, is responsible. 
His precious piece of grandmotherly legislation 
seeks to apply to clubs the law now governing 
public - houses : they are to be closed at exactly 
the same time ; in addition to which, there 
are other ridiculous clauses. If Mr. S. Roberts 
has his way, Britons will be more enslaved than 
ever. 

Modern England may be compared to a huge 
school, ruled by puritanical if well-meaning masters, 
and mfluenced by a host of myrmidons, a large 
number of whom are swayed by bigotry and some- 
times by hysteria. 

Self-control, self-respect, education, culture, and 



48 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

common sense — all the natural impulses and fail- 
ings of humanity are ignored by modern legislation. 
The modern Englishman apparently is not to be 
trusted ; therefore he is placed under restraints — in 
fact, he is reduced to the level of a schoolboy. 

Even worse than Mr. Roberts's Bill is an 
amazingly impertinent piece of meddling inter- 
ference suggested by a weekly journal of high 
reputation. In this it was gravely proposed 
that post-masters and -mistresses should be em- 
powered to open private letters if they were 
inclined to suspect that there was anything about 
betting in them. That well-known authority on 
Turf matters— Mr. Alfred Watson — commenting 
upon this outrageous suggestion, quite rightly 
branded it as "fanaticism run wild." 

Legislative attempts to drive the people into 
good behaviour by putting shackles on the limbs of 
their moral capacity to discriminate between right 
and wrong, besides being as a rule useless, are 
absolutely unjustifiable. Attempts to put down 
the overindulgence of a degraded few, by a correc- 
tive application so sweeping that the whole nation 
is branded with the insulting imputation of being 
unfit to enjoy liberty, cannot fail to weaken 
respect for the law, which above all things should 
be founded upon common sense. AVithout doubt 
there will some day arise a reaction against all 
legislation which, under the guise of moral im- 
provement, is constantly seeking to crush personal 

liberty. 

If ever the democracy becomes really educated 
and alive to facts which are now as much as 



A FUTILE CRUSADE 49 

possible ignored, they will bitterly resent all this 
ill-considered and unnecessary solicitude for their 
— " Heaven save the mark !" — moral welfare. As 
if a people could be moral who were distrusted and 
invited to surrender their consciences and sense of 
personal dignity into the hands of grandmotherly 
fanatics ! 

We seem every day to be getting nearer to 
the state of affairs which, during one period of the 
eighteenth century, prevailed at Vienna, where, 
though luxury and extravagance abounded, the 
most bigoted and rigorous attempts were made 
to safeguard public morality. 

A legion of vile spies, called by the high-sounding 
name of commissaii^es de chastite, persecuted the un- 
fortunate women of the city, and drove them — as 
so-called moral reformers attempt to do to-day in 
modern London — from pillar to post, unwilling to 
allow them dwelling-places in which to lay their 
weary heads, 

Maria Theresa inaugurated this cruel and ridicu- 
lous policy. Like many of our own countrymen and 
countrywomen, she was quite devoid of the sublime 
virtue of toleration as regards anything connected 
with love apart from matrimony. Like them also 
she had the presumption to imagine that human 
nature could be changed. Her crusade, of course, 
proved utterly futile ; nevertheless, it has since been 
intermittently revived in various countries, but 
never with the slightest success. 

A comparatively recent instance occurred in 
England in 1885, when the late Mr. W. T. Stead 
— good, sincere, and well-meaning, but highly emo- 

4 



50 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

tional — having disguised himself as a man of 
pleasure (it was said by putting on patent-leather 
boots), betook himself to a cafe in Leicester Square, 
and, of course, without difficulty, obtained some 
amazing revelations concerning London vice. 

As a result of the agitation which followed, the 
Criminal Law Amendment Act was passed, the 
enactments of which were expected to produce 
a great improvement in national morality. 

All anticipations of this sort, however, were 
doomed to disappointment. Indeed, according to 
those reformers who are now clamouring for a more 
stringent Act, things have got worse instead of 
better. 

Owing to the outcry aroused concerning the 
so-called " White Slave Traffic " — which, however, 
has been exaggerated by persons who glean their 
knowledge of life from sensational books — legisla- 
tion is at present pending, the main effect of which 
will merely be the further hounding down of the 
unfortunate daughters of pleasure. Already, be- 
cause of the difficulty of obtaining rooms, these 
poor creatures are driven into the hands of the vile 
bullies whom our moral reformers profess to be 
anxious to stamp out. 

One of the greatest aids to the blackmailer 
and the bully is the legislation which makes it diffi- 
cult for these women to find an abode — and this 
difficulty, which often places them at the mercy 
of unscrupulous brutes, is one of the chief causes 
of such White Slave Trafficking as does exist. 

Nothing can be more ridiculous than the way 
in which the question of the social evil is treated in 



A SHAMEFUL STATE OF AFFAIRS 51 

England, where an army of prigs, faddists, and emo- 
tional if well-meaning women wage a sort of opera 
bouffe war against an instinct which, as everyone 
who has devoted serious attention to the subject 
knows, mere repression is powerless to check. 
Meanwhile, doctors and scientists, who in more 
enlightened countries have done so much to mitigate 
the worst effects of vice, are never consulted at all. 
Owing to this and to the shameful cowardice of 
JNlembers of Parliament, protection of the national 
health, for which there is such urgent need, is never 
even discussed. The expression of high moral 
sentiments and sensational appeals to stamp out 
the " White Slave Trade " are more popular, and 
better calculated to catch votes. 

Though politicians of the stamp of Mr. Arthur 
Lee and Mr. Alan Burgoyne are ready enough to 
push forward legislation drafted by fanatical and 
emotional moral reformers, they have not the 
courage to advocate measures which, as all ac- 
quainted with the facts know, would enormously 
improve the national well-being. 

The main effect of the repressive laws of which 
they are so fond will be merely to make the lot of 
the unfortunate women more miserable than ever. 
On the other hand, the good effects of a care- 
fully considered measure designed to palliate the 
horrors of the scourge which affects not only 
the living, but generations to come, would be 
incalculable. 

The indifference shown towards this question by 
politicians and others who should enlighten the 
public as to the real state of affairs is absolutely 
criminal. 



52 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

It is a national scandal that not the slightest 
effort is made to prevent England from labouring 
under the stigma of being utterly callous to the 
horrors of a plague just as formidable and fatal as 
tuberculosis. 

Germany — at least as regards its army and navy 
— has come nearest to solving this grave problem in 
a satisfactory manner. 

This is not the place to describe the methods 
which have achieved such admirable results. Suffice 
it to say that they do not consist in the early closing 
of restaurants (in Berlin many are allowed to be 
open all night), suppressing dancing-places, or 
hoimding wretched women out of fiats. 

Some day, perhaps, when our politicians are more 
independent and public-spirited, a saner policy will 
be adopted. 

Till that day arrives, let us have some cessation 
of self-congratulation and nauseous talk about our 
wonderful progress in moral reform. Considering 
that the well-being and health of many an unborn 
generation is now wilfully sacrificed in the cause 
of humbug and cant — " progress in national 
pollution " would be much nearer the mark. 



CHAPTER III 

GULLS — PIGEONS — ROOKS 

Why the word '* gull " should be used to express 
stupidity it is hard to comprehend, for in reality 
gulls are very knowing birds indeed, and difficult 
to be deceived. If a piece of bread or biscuit be 
thrown from a boat, it remains but a very short 
time on the surface of the water before it is carried 
off by a gull, although previously not a bird was 
visible. But if a number of gulls are flying about, 
and a piece of paper or white wood be thrown into 
the water, there is not a gull who will even stoop 
towards it, although to the human eye the bread 
and the paper appear identical. 

The term "pigeon" is, of course, derived from 
the trap-shooting which not a great time ago was 
considered a legitimate form of sport. Not so 
many years ago, indeed, ladies went down to 
Hurlingham, where a special plot of ground was 
reserved for what was euphemistically termed 
" The Tournament of Doves." 

A hundred years ago and later there were many 
places round I^ondon at which trap-shooting 
flourished. The Old Hats at Ealing, on the 
Uxbridge Road, the Red House at Battersea — 
swept away by the improvements which pro- 

53 



54 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

duced Chelsea Bridge and Battersea Park — and 
Hornsey Wood House, were all great pigeon- 
shooting resorts. 

At the Red House on June 30, 1829, a celebrated 
match was shot, those who took part in it being 
Lord Ranelagh, Captain Ross, Messrs. Osbaldeston, 
Grant, and Shoubridge, Lord Ranelagh and Mr. 
Grant receiving four dead birds in advance. The 
match became a tie at the fifteenth double shot 
between Captain Ross and Mr. Shoubridge. 
Captain Ross and Mr. Shoubridge then shot the 
tie off. Captain Ross led, and killed his three 
double birds in succession. Mr. Shoubridge fol- 
lowed with the same success. Captain Ross, in 
his next double shot, missed one bird, and Mr. 
Shoubridge killed both his, and was declared the 
winner. This was considered the best shooting 
ever witnessed, Mr. Shoubridge having killed ten 
double shots out of the last eleven, and the first 
bird of the eleventh, making twenty-one birds out 
of twenty-two. During the next season four of the 
above "crack" shots again tried their prowess. These 
were Anson, Ross, Shoubridge, and Osbaldeston. 
At the commencement Anson and the Squire were 
favourites at five to four. Captain Ross made 
some of the most surprising shots ever known in 
the enclosure ; the distance was twenty yards with 
the five traps, at twenty-five double shots each. 
The betting was five to one that both birds were 
killed against being missed. At the conclusion 
the numbers were : IMr. Shourbridge, twenty-seven ; 
Captain Ross, twenty-six; Hon. George Anson, 
twenty-five; Mr. Osbaldeston, twenty-four. Two 



PIGEON-SHOOTING 55 

matches were then shot by Captain Ross and 
Mr. Osbaldeston, at thirty yards, with the five 
traps, at twelve birds each, and were both won by 
the captain, who killed ten out of twelve. 

This was in its way legitimate enough ; but in 
numberless cases pigeon- shooting was merely an 
elaborate method of extracting money from the 
products of foolish young men. It is not a manly 
sport — if, indeed, it is a sport at all. There is a 
feeling of repugnance at the idea of confining, and 
then liberating from that confinement, hundreds 
of domestic birds doomed to instant and often 
inglorious death, for, if the pigeon escape the 
regular shooter, he is pretty certain to be destroyed 
by the numerous irregular gunners who infest and 
surround the privileged ground. 

Nevertheless, in these days, when every attempt 
is made to avoid cruelty, there is no need to pro- 
hibit it by legislation. As a matter of fact, there is 
no more cruelty about modern pigeon-shooting than 
there is about a big pheasant-shoot — probably 
rather less. 

The form of gambling, however, which has done 
most harm to the aristocracy and squirearchy of 
England is racing. The juggernaut of the Turf has 
crushed many a fine old family ; for to many its 
attractions have been irresistible. Of a certain 
nobleman who, notwithstanding grave financial 
reverses, had continued to go racing to the last day 
of his life, it was said that he would have liked 
to be buried in the middle of a race-course. The 
fascination exercised by the Turf is not infrequently 
hereditary. A striking instance of this recently 



56 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

came under the writer's notice. He was, with a 
friend, looking for a country residence, and in the 
course of the search went over a small house in one 
of the southern counties. This was the property 
of an invalid clergyman, who from an upper 
window pointed out a well-known race-course 
which lay close by. 

" On race days," said he, " I have my chair 
wheeled to the bottom of the garden, so that I can 
get a good view of the horses as they go by. You 
will think it odd of me to say so, but, though I 
have never made a bet, I love the Turf Goodness 
knows, I have little reason to do so ! My father " 
(mentioning a well-known "Cavalry plunger" of 
the sixties) " owned a lot of race-horses ; and had it 
not been for them, I should have occupied a very 
different position to-day. They cost him his 
fortune, and we were left with practically nothing. 
Nevertheless, as I have said, racing has a great 
attraction for me. I suppose it was seeing my 
father's stud when I was a boy." 

To-day, speculation on the Stock Exchange has 
taken the place of racing as a means for well-to-do 
people to get rid of their money. There is a pleasant 
air of respectability about dabbling in stocks and 
shares very different from the stigma of gambling 
which hangs about transactions on the Turf. 

Successful speculation is "business"; unsuccessful 
betting, mere "gambling"; notwithstanding this, in 
the majority of instances both produce the same 
effect — an empty pocket. 

The different way in which the world regards 
Stock Exchange speculation and betting was per- 



RACING 57 

haps never better shown than at the death of the 
ill-starred Marquess of Hastings, upon which 
occasion a great London daily, whilst very 
severely criticizing the defunct nobleman in its 
largest type, had a column and a half in equally 
large type dedicated to the praise of Baron James 
de Rothschild. The Baron was a prudent specu- 
lator, not a rash gambler. He died with a million 
or so more than he came into the world with — not 
poorer by several thousands. 

Though the days of great Turf plungers seem to 
have gone, racing is still very popular with the 
people at large. It is almost the only speculative 
amusement they have, and very likely it does less 
harm than is generally supposed. In any case, pro- 
posals such as were embodied in the Bishop of 
Hereford's Bill, so sensibly rejected by the House 
of Lords, are a gross and unwarrantable interference 
with personal liberty. To prohibit the publication 
of the odds in the newspapers savours of the 
worst sort of tyranny. How any Englishman could 
be found to draft such a monstrous piece of legisla- 
tion is indeed an extraordinary thing. 

Ever since racing first began, the British public, 
not necessarily for betting reasons, has taken the 
warmest interest in it ; but the character of the 
interest has perhaps a little changed in the course 
of years. Nowadays, apart from those who actually 
attend race-meetings, the majority do their racing 
through the medium of the newspapers. Not 
always was this the case ; but in older days they 
had their own means of communicating racing as 
well as general news. 



58 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

In the days before railways coachmen and 
guards were the great racing authorities. They 
carried the news from town to town, being often 
very much beset, after a great race-meeting, for the 
names of the winners. 

Many a bedroom window would fly open as the 
mail clattered by, and the guards generally knew 
what was wanted before the night-capped inquirer 
opened his lips. 

BeWs Life was the great sporting authority ; 
every hostelry with the slightest claim to re- 
spectability took it in regularly, and people dropped 
in all the week to read the sporting news. 

It was generally a queer, tattered -looking sheet 
by the end of the week. In the North of England 
the York Herald was a wonderful authority on all 
racing matters. It was a big single sheet, which 
could accommodate three readers at a time. Short 
paragraphs, not long racing articles, were its 
speciality. 

" Vates," in Bells Life, was then about the only 
prophet who presumed to speak in verse on the eve 
of the two great races. People learnt his effusions 
by heart, as they did the verses beneath Leech's 
weekly picture in the same paper. 

There was no critical analysis of leading favourites. 
Each horse was usually praised to the skies, so that 
whatever turned up trumps, the writer might be 
always on the right side and able to refer to the 
favourable opinion he had expressed some months 
before. 

With the growth of the modern excellent sport- 
ing press, the public has gained far greater oppor- 



ROOKS 59 

tunities of knowing the form of the various horses. 
It is, consequently, far cleverer at backing winners 
to-day than it was in the past, and, as a proof of 
this, book-making is no longer the easy road to 
fortune which it once was. 

The old open race-meetings, of course, were not 
conducted so strictly as those of to-day. All sorts 
of sharpers lay in wait for countrymen and others, 
while open gambling was carried on in booths, 
especially at Epsom. Huge fat women, under 
large umbrellas, kept a lookout near the roulette- 
tables which were scattered about near the course. 
Frith's clever picture, " The Derby Day," gives an 
excellent idea of what went on as late as the sixties. 

In the London of other days, whilst " pigeons," 
in the shape of rich young heirs and bumpkin 
squires, were to be found in fair profusion, there 
were also a number of individuals who, if not 
exactly " rooks," eked out a comfortable living by 
betting and play. 

A man of this sort was often quite a slave to 
regular, or rather irregular, habits. When not 
engaged in racing or some other sporting event, his 
day consisted entirely of cards. Beginning with a 
rubber or two in the afternoon, he would sit over 
the green cloth till dinner. After this, billiards 
would monopolize his attention till about twelve 
o'clock, when more serious card-playing began. In 
the days of Crockford's he would often stay at the 
famous Temple of Chance in St. James's Street till 
the dawn broke. In later years he would either 
play more whist or join some private party where 
the stakes ran high. With the morning light and 



60 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

the cry of the early milkman he came home with a 
light or heavy heart, corresponding with the state 
of his pocket, and went to bed. 

To-day the counterpart of yesterday, to-morrow 
the counterpart of to-day ! 

The mental attitude of a certain number of indi- 
viduals as to gambling has probably never been 
better summed up than by George Eliot. 

" Favourable chance, I fancy," she wrote, " is 
the god of all men who follow their own devices 
instead of obeying a law they believe in. Let 
even a polished man of these days get into a 
position he is ashamed to avow, and his mind 
will be bent on all the possible issues that may 
deliver him from the calculable results of that 
position. Let him live outside his income, or shirk 
the resolute, honest work that brings wages, and 
he will presently find himself dreaming of a possible 
benefactor, a possible simpleton who may be 
cajoled into using his interest, a possible state of 
mind in some possible person not j^et forthcoming. 
Let him neglect the responsibilities of his office, 
and he will inevitably anchor himself on the chance 
that the thing left undone may turn out not to be 
of the supposed importance. Let him betray his 
friend's confidence, and he wall adore that same 
cunning complexity called Chance, which gives 
him the hope that his friend will never know. Let 
him forsake a decent craft that he may pursue the 
gentilities of a profession to which nature never 
called him, and his religion will infallibly be the 
worship of blessed Chance, wliich he will believe in 
as the mighty creator of success. The evil principle 



ADVENTURERS OF THE PAST 61 

deprecated in that religion is the orderly sequence 
by which the seed brings forth a crop after its 
kind." 

Gambling and betting have always been part of 
the stock-in-trade of the sharpers who prey upon 
foolish young men. To-day the latter are supposed 
to be very wide-awake ; nevertheless, the peculiar 
kind of swindler who lives by pandering to their 
follies still flourishes. There are still plenty of 
pickings for the rook, and the fox seldom prowls 
about in vain. 

At the present day a clever, impecunious adven- 
turer finds many an active sphere for his peculiar 
labours which was denied to his predecessor. In the 
distant past a man whose keen wit had to stand 
him in the stead of a lofty name and handsome 
revenues was forced to open the world with his 
sword as a soldier of fortune. If he could not do 
this he had to ingratiate himself with someone 
who would offer him the requisite facilities for 
marrying an heiress, or else to descend to the tricks 
and cunning of the downright knave. He could 
punt over the green cloth at games of hazard, it is 
true ; but a man who has to live by his wits can 
seldom afford to play unless he has a decided advan- 
tage over his opponent, and the adventurer was 
often enough sufficiently manly to despise such 
methods. 

The halcyon age of the sharper was, of course, 
the eighteenth century, when men drank deep, and 
almost everyone with money gambled. 

Beaux and statesmen, peers and apprentices, the 
learned and polite, as well as the ignorant and 



62 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

vulgar, were alike involved in the vortex of play. 
Horse-racing, cock-fighting, betting of every de- 
scription, with the ordinary resources of cards and 
dice, were the chief employment of many, and 
these were engaged in, more or less, by almost 
every person in the higher ranks of life. The pro- 
prietary clubs — White's, Brooks's, Boodle's — were 
originally instituted to evade the statute against 
public gaming - houses. But every fashionable 
assembly was a public gaming-house. People betted 
on everything, no matter how absurd. 

In the earlier part of the eighteenth century, 
when racing was just beginning to be fashionable 
in France, a veritable mania for betting captured 
the viveui^s of Paris, who settled everything by a 
wager. Members of the Jockey Club betted as to 
each other's health, the duration of their lives, and 
sometimes even as to the virtue of other members' 
wives. 

Eccentric bets were all the rage. M. de 
Chateauvillard and Charles Laffitte, for instance, 
actually rode ponies into the Jockey Club and 
played a game of billiards without dismounting. 

Another member, offering to bet a hundred louis 
that a certain gentleman's wife was not faithful to 
him, was considerably embarrassed by the member, 
who had only overheard that a wager was on foot, 
insisting on sharing it with him. The conditions 
were duly entered in the betting-book, the name of 
the husband being, however, omitted, and a week 
later that individual, who never learnt the truth, 
was duly handed a thousand francs. Everything, 
from the exact size of Taglioni's legs to the subject 



SPIUER-RACING 63 

of M. Thiers' next speech, became the subject of 
speculation. Thus the Jockey Club's betting-book 
made even more curious reading than the famous 
volume in which are to be read the eccentric wagers 
made by members of White's Club, at the time 
when the attention of the West End of London 
was so largely concentrated upon play. 

A young man is said to have won money on 
spiders. He wagered that a spider which he would 
produce would cross a plate quicker than a spider 
to be produced by a friend. Each spider was to 
have its own plate. His opponent's spider, how- 
ever, on being started, would not stir, whilst his own 
ran with immense speed. The bet was consequently 
lost, and the loser soon found out the reason why. 
Our young friend had a hot plate. 

There were many tragedies, and it was no un- 
common thing for a heavy loser to blow out his 
brains. 

Great excitement was aroused on one occasion 
when a certain gambler had won a vast sum of 
money at ecarte owing to constantly turning up 
the King of Diamonds. All of a sudden his un- 
happy adversary rose, seized the cards, and in a 
desperate, despairing manner rushed hurriedly into 
an adjoining room. During the moment of his 
doing so the handle of a pistol was seen by a gentle- 
man, as he rushed past, in his coat pocket. An 
exclamation of horror ensued. All rushed to the 
door to try and force it open, for it was locked on 
the inside, but before this could be done the report 
of a pistol was heard ; for a moment, all drew back 
in silent fear. The women, pale and trembling, 



64 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

shrank back to the farthest corner of the room. 
The door was broken open, and then they beheld 
the King of Diamonds, witli his head blown off by 
the unsuccessful gambler ! 

Ireland produced a number of adventurers at 
the end of the eighteenth century. Many a one, 
like the celebrated Tom Hughes, was the son of 
some worthy tradesman. Spoilt by a fond mother, 
Tom's taste for gaiety and dissipation soon marked 
him out as a man of pleasure. 

His father died while Tom was still a boy, and 
being still his mother's darling, slie indulged him 
in all his extravagance far beyond the limits of her 
abilities. He dressed, gamed at "' Lucas's," and paid 
his court to the ladies of pleasure. His mother's 
affairs were, by his dissipation, brought into a 
critical state, and she was no longer able to assist 
him. The debts he had contracted, and a desire to 
shine far above his station, induced him to quit 
Ireland and make his appearance in England. He 
accordingly repaired to London, where he found 
means to raise some money, appeared at the billiard- 
tables, tennis-courts, and horse-races, and sported 
with various success. At length Tom met with a 
good pigeon, and then he began to make a more 
brilliant figure than ever, betting like any rich 
young squire. With the Phrynes of Covent Garden 
he was in high favour ; they shared the spoils ; and 
his generosity to them was almost unbounded. 
His favourite house was that of Mrs. Thornton in 
the Piazza, and here he spent, or rather threw away, 
many hundreds of pounds. 

Fortune at this period seemed to accompany 



TOM HUGHES 65 

him everywhere. He was a great gainer by the 
gaming-parties held at CarHsle House in Soho 
Square, and derived considerable emolument from 
having a share in the E O tables at Dr. Graham's 
in Pall Mall. In a rencontre he had with a gentle- 
man under the Piazza concerning a play debt, he 
received a wound in his side. Luckily, his 
antagonist's sword struck against a rib, and the 
wound proved in no way dangerous, so that he 
recovered in a few days. Soon after, he fell in 
company with a young gentleman, of considerable 
fortune, just come of age; they sat down to cribbage, 
and in one night he won above £3,000 of his 
opponent, who made over to him a landed estate 
as a consideration for that sum. 

Tom was now in the zenith of his grandeur. 
He borrowed a sum of money of old Pope, the 
usurer, and, being considered a man of real 
fortune, he was balloted a member of the Jockey 
Club. 

From this period may be dated his decline. 
Passionately fond of hazard, he could not bear to 
hear the rattling of a dice-box unless he was of the 
party. A run of ill-luck, added to his good-nature 
in giving assistance to any unfortunate fellow- 
gambler who broke down, soon compelled him to 
have recourse again to Pope, The estate was 
presently so deeply involved that he could not 
pay the interest of the mortgage, and in a short 
time Hughes was compelled to transfer the whole 
property to the money-lender. 

Though he was destitute of money, he still had 
credit, but his creditors soon became so clamorous 

5 



66 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

that he was obhged to He low. Stern necessity, 
however, drove him out in search of play and 
money, and he was often paid a *' shoulder compli- 
ment " by the " catchpole," and was thereby more 
distressed. One evening, when he was at the 
Long Acre Coffee-house, playing at backgammon, 
his creditors, having got scent of his situation, 
paid him a visit. Tom, however, having many 
acquaintances in the room, was thereby saved ; for, 
instead of letting him be made a prisoner, they 
rolled the " catchpoles " in the gutter, whilst their 
friend made good his escape. 

He was, however, caught a few nights after, and 
obliged to pay for all his sins. This became a 
very expensive affair, which he never got clear 
of till he was set at liberty by the Insolvent 
Act. 

He was soon after confined at the house of the 
famous, or rather infamous, Charles Scoldwell, a 
rapacious bailiff, who was eventually transported. 
Charley knew his man, and knew that Tom had 
many friends who would not let him want ; accord- 
ingly, as long as they visited him and promoted 
the trade of the house, Charley was in no hurry 
to carry Tom over the water. But when Tom's 
purse began to fail, and his friends seemed to cool, 
Charley made no ceremony, but conducted him to 
the Bench. Here, worn out by illness, worry, and 
debt, Hughes ev^entually died, leaving not even the 
price of a coffin. 

White's was a great centre of speculation from the 
end of the eighteenth century to the middle of the 
nineteenth. Here were to be found all the fashion- 



WHITENS 67 

able men of pleasure of the day, those of varying 
tastes generally herding together in separate groups, 
as if they were not a part of the same club. The 
triflers and exquisites approximated more closely 
to another class — the sporting men — than any 
other, for " sporting " transactions brought them 
more frequently in collision one with another. 
Seventy years ago many beaux lounged about 
inside the still existing bow window, built in 1811, 
reconnoitring up and down St. James's Street — 
some talking upon affairs of love, others upon 
affairs of "honour"; of matches on the "tapis," 
and the losses sustained at Crockford's the night 
before. 

So much has been written of the latter 
gaming resort that it is here only necessary to say 
that, like a vast sponge, it absorbed all the ready 
money of the men of pleasure of the period during 
which it was open. 

At that time the West End was the scene of all 
sorts of queer freaks, of which the running match 
between Lord William Lennox and an officer of 
the 9th Lancers was an instance. 

Coming into Crockford's one evening, the latter, 
known in the army as one of the fleetest runners 
of his day, declared he would give anyone present 
ten yards in a hundred, and run him for the 
same number of pounds. Lord William, in spite 
of having just had a big dinner, accepted the 
challenge, and the conditions of the match were 
signed as follows : "100 so vs. each, p. p., to come 
off in Hill Street, Berkeley Square, at 12 o'clock 
p.m., J. Spalding, Esq., to give Lord W. Lennox 



68 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

ten yards in a hundred. Colonel Standen and 
Lord Fitzhardinge to be umpires, Count D'Orsay 
referee." 

The odds against Lord William were at first 
6 to 4, soon increased to 2 to 1. 

For the next hour the favourite took some 
gentle exercise, and reached the appointed starting- 
place five minutes before midnight. 

There had been a shower of rain, and the ground 
was so slippery that one of his backers fell when 
measuring the ground ; this was looked upon as an 
unlucky omen, and 5 to 2 was offered in favour 
of the soldier, who had youth upon his side. " I 
shall give the words. One, two, three, and away," 
said the starter, placing Lord William ten yards in 
advance ; " and at the latter you will both be off, 
running between tlie two umpires." While the 
course was being cleared (for so novel a sight as a 
foot-race in this aristocratic neighbourhood had 
attracted a crowd of idlers), Lord William, deter- 
mined not to throw away a chance, quietly divested 
himself of his shoes. In the mean time, his opponent's 
friends were not backward in the cause, and a noble 
lord, who had invested a couple of hundreds on the 
match, gave a hint to his man to cross to the pave- 
ment, which was dry, in order to avoid the chance 
of slipping upon the wet macadamized road. This 
generally clever backer either forgot that in follow- 
ing the suggestion the distance given to Lord 
William would be increased in a trifling degree, or 
considered that the advantage gained would counter- 
balance the drawback. No sooner had the word 
been given than Lord William shot off like an 



A STRANGE WAGER 69 

arrow from a bow. His opponent was even quicker 
at starting ; but unfortunately, in making for 
the pavement, he came in contact with the very 
individual who had tendered the above advice. The 
concussion, though not severe, threw him out of his 
stride, and Lord William was pronounced to have 
won in a canter. His feet were cut by the sharp 
stones, his shoes lost or stolen, his silk stockings 
sacrificed ; but the balance was in his favour, for 
the following morning the winner received £60 
as his share of the original stake and odds that he 
stood on this sporting event. 

At that period, strange wagers were common. 

A sporting blade, who never would allow himself 
to be outdone, one day got into an argument with 
a friend as to which of the two could endure the 
hotter bath, he himself maintaining he could stand 
any degree of heat. After some argument and 
discussion a bet was made. Two bath-tubs were 
prepared, with six inches of water in each. The 
competitors stripped, and, separated by a cloth par- 
tition, each one got in and let on the hot water at 
the word, the wager being who would stay in the 
longest with the hot water running. No. 1 drew up 
his feet as far as possible from the boiling stream, 
but No. 2 pulled out the plug in the bottom 
of the tub. After about half a minute, No. 1 
inquired : 

" How is it in there — pretty warm ?" 

" Yes," said the other, " it's getting mighty hot ; 
but I guess I can hold out a minute longer." 

" So can I," answered No. 1. "Scis — s! Squash! 
but the heat is awful !" 



70 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

Fifteen seconds passed, equal to half an hour by 
No. I's imaginary watch. 

" I say, over there, how is it now ?" 
^, *' Oh ! It's nearly up to boiling-point. Oh, 
'"^^ Christopher !" answered the cunning villain, who 
was lying in the empty tub, while the hot water 
passed out of the escape-pipe. 

By this time No. 1 was splurging about like a 
boiled lobster. He called again : 

" I s-a-y, over there, how is it now ?" 

" Hot," repUed No. 2. " But— whew ! Scis-s ! 
I shall hold out another minute all right." 

" Oh, can you !" shrieked the now partially 
boiled No. 1 , and, unable to contain himself, scram- 
bling out, he bolted through the partition, expecting 
to find the other quite cooked. 

" You infernal rascal ! Why didn't you put the 
plug in ?" 

" Well, our conditions said nothing about that," 
said the imperturbable joker. " Why in thunder 
didn't you leave yours out ?" 

As old betting-books attest, wagers were formerly 
made about all sorts of things which would now be 
considered unsuitable subjects for speculation. 
Young officers were very fond of betting as to 
marriages and the like. In a country town lived 
a rich attorney with two daughters, each of 
whom, as he was fond of giving out, would have 
£20,000. This statement naturally gave rise to 
a good deal of joking, especially amongst the 
subalterns of a regiment of foot quartered there, with 
the result that the attorney declared that no officer 
should ever sit at his table. 



TRICKING AN ATTORNEY 71 

Talking over this exclusion one day, a dashing 
young lieutenant, to the amazement of his com- 
panions, offered to bet that he would be present at 
a dinner-party to which the attorney had invited a 
number of the townspeople. 

The wager was quickly accepted, and, in pursu- 
ance of his plan, on the appointed day the subaltern 
presented himself at the lawyer's door and begged 
to see him on most urgent business. 

He was soon admitted, the man of law having 
no idea of losing a client merely because he wore a 
red coat ; he was very much astonished, however, 
when his visitor gravely informed him that he was 
the bearer of intelligence that would save him 
£10,000. Just then, however, dinner was announced, 
and the young officer, with well-feigned regret, 
was on the point of retiring, saying he would call 
the next morning, when the bewildered attorney, 
fearful of neglecting his guests, and yet distressed 
at the idea of not getting told of what might be 
valuable information, became totally forgetful of his 
resolution as regards his daughters, and pressed the 
subaltern to join his dinner-party. This the 
officer, after proper hesitation, consented to do, 
and, taking good care to place himself between 
the young ladies, made fierce love to both during 
the repast. 

Dinner over, the host, now in a perfect fever 
of unrest, hurried his young guest into a private 
room, and begged him to let him know what he 
meant by saying he could save him £10,000. 

" Why, sir," said the officer, " everyone says that 
when your daughters marry you will give them 



72 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

twenty thousand pounds apiece ; I came here to tell 
you I will take either of them with ten." 

The lawyer was mad with rage, but the officer 
claimed and received his bet. 

Many a young fellow, after a career of extrava- 
gance, found himself in a pitiable condition. The 
only thing before him was often bankruptcy, and 
this in many cases proved a positive relief. An 
insolvent, however honourable or unfortunate, had 
always the millstone of his debts hanging about his 
neck, and this, to men of principle, proved well- 
nigh intolerable. 

In old days, however, only persons in business 
went bankrupt, as the penalty for debt was a sort of 
not dishonourable incarceration. In consequence of 
this penalty, many men of pleasure passed the 
last years of their lives in a debtors' prison. 

Incidentally it may be remarked that the etymo- 
logy of the word " bankrupt " is very curious. It is 
said to have arisen from the establishment of the 
first traders in exchange who dealt in open market- 
places, which consisted in a bare bench or counter 
(Latin, hancus ; Italian, banco), which bench, in 
case of the trader's failure, was broken up, by way 
of public stigma. Hence, then, the name of banker 
or bencher, and hence, as some presume, the origin 
of the term " bankrupt." 

In the days of imprisonment for debt, money- 
lenders flourished even more than they do to-day. 
A regular hierarchy of usurers then existed. At 
the bottom of them was the Shylock in a small way, 
who negotiated modest loans, part of which was 
given in bad sherry, worse cigars, or worthless 



PICTURE DEALING 73 

pictures. A great trade was done in spurious works 
of art, impecunious borrowers being forced to take 
some chef d'oeuvre, declared to be from the brush of 
an old master, as part consideration for an outrageous 
bill. Sometimes, however, the lender got the 
worst of these very dubious transactions. 

One dissipated young fellow, being very pressed 
for money, resold to a certain Hebrew dealer, for 
one-sixth of the money he had paid for it, a picture 
which he had purchased but a week or two before. 
The rapacity of the Israelite, however, prompted 
his victim to get even with this Shylock, at whose 
establishment a few days later he accordingly 
again presented himself. 

'* I have brought you," said he, " a most valuable 
painting — a cherished heirloom which has de- 
scended from father to son for many generations in 
my family ; I have lost all you gave me the other day 
for that picture, and therefore need a further hundred 
pounds in order to try and retrieve my losses." 

The Jew looked at the painting, and liked it, 
with the result that after some demur he advanced 
the required sum. 

" In six days from this, almost for certain," said 
the borrower, " I shall be in funds ; I therefore wish 
to make the condition that if at the end of that 
time I bring you one hundred and ten pounds — 
outrageous interest — you will restore my painting. 
We will make a memorandum to that effect in 
writing." 

Thinking that he was making a pretty good 
bargain, the Jew agreed. 

A couple of days or so later, an individual who 



74 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

gave every indication of being possessed of con- 
siderable wealth, apparently struck by the beauty 
of the painting which he saw displayed in the 
dealer's window, entered and offered an enormous 
sum for it. 

" Splendid !" he exclaimed in ecstasy. " I am a 
connoisseur in works of art. It is a Rubens, and I 
must positively have it at any price." The keen eyes 
of the Jew sparkled, but he recollected the written 
agreement, and therefore refused to part with it. 

The next morning a painter arrived, who also 
offered to purchase it, but with no better success. 
On that and the ensuing day a crowd of persons 
collected round the window, all loud in their ad- 
miration of the superb painting. Inquiries poured 
in, and at last the Jew, overpowered with questions 
and offers of purchase, was compelled to remove 
the picture altogether from the public gaze. 

The sixth day was more exciting still, and the 
Jew was all agog. It was possible the original 
owner might not appear, and then he was at liberty 
to dispose of it to whomsoever he would. About 
midday, however, to his great mortification the 
young man once more stood before him. 

" Well, Isaac," said he, with a deep sigh, " here I 
am, but without money to redeem the painting. 
Here, however, are my watch, chain, rings, and 
other jewelry, which I will give you instead." 

" Our bargain said nothing about that," was the 
reply. 

" But the things are twice the amount of your 
loan. I can raise the amount on them from a 
friend in half an hour." 



BUYING AN HEIRLOOM 75 

The picture-dealer was disconcerted, but only for 
a moment. 

" I would rather buy the picture right out," at 
length said he, " and am prepared to pay well for 
it. What do you say to two hundred pounds ?" 

'' Two hundred devils !" was the reply. " Fancy 
taking such a sum for a Rubens, and an heirloom 
handed down from generation to generation. You 
are facetious, friend Isaac, or take me to be a fool." 

" Well, say two hundred and fifty pounds ?" 

" Nonsense ! I will go and get the money I owe 
you, and then take my painting away." 

" Well, I'll give you three hundred." It was 
half the amount offered him by an English 
nobleman. 

So saying, the dealer produced the money. The 
young man appeared to be staggered ; he hesitated, 
hemmed, hawed, and evinced every sign of in- 
decision. 

" Well, as you are an old friend of mine," said 
he, " you shall have it ; but only think what my 
ancestors would say were they to know I had ceded 
such a Rubens at such a price. You have a great 
bargain, let me tell you, and cannot fail to double 
the sum you have given for it. Adieu, you old 
bloodsucker !" pocketing the notes and gold. " I 
am sure you will long bear me in remembrance for 
this. Once more, adieu." 

The Jew before long found he had good reason to 
remember his erratic client, for from the day of his 
purchase no one showed the least desire to give 
anything for the Rubens, which several passing 
connoisseurs, no doubt sent by its former owner, 



76 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

obligingly pointed out was nothing but an indif- 
ferent copy. Never, perhaps, was there a better 
instance of the biter bit. 

At the topmost rung of the ladder was the 
fashionable West End usurer who called himself a 
financier. A useful man, on occasion, to people in 
a tight place, he served you in the present tense, 
lent to you in the conditional mood, kept you in the 
subjunctive, and ruined you in the future. Mean- 
while he gave excellent dinners to his clients, and 
almost considered himself to be a gentleman. 

Such a man called bills " securities," and, by 
adroit methods, generally contrived that not he but 
some humbler member of his profession should sue 
his victims. 

Some dealt entirely with the aristocracy, and 
preferred only coronets with strawberry-leaves 
round them ; others made a speciality of dealing 
only with the military. It is said that a certain dis- 
counter on his death-bed thanked Heaven that, 
although he had ruined half the Household Brigade, 
his conscience was clear of ever having done a bill 
for a Woolwich cadet. 

Another spoke with pity of a friend and rival, 
who he said had sunk so low as to be obliged to do 
bills at thirty per cent, for the Royal Marines. 

The descendants of the money-lenders who fur- 
nished the bucks of the past with the ready cash to 
lead their lives of pleasure are now, for the most 
part, reputable and well-to-do people, who have 
entirely forgotten the methods by which their 
ancestors managed to emerge from obscurity. 
Some sport quite aristocratic names, though most 



MR. LEVIATHAN 77 

of them bear some resemblance to the original 
appellations of their families. Most of the old 
money-lenders were Jews, and a Jew, when he 
thinks fit to christianize his name, invariably ad- 
heres to a recognizable semblance — orthographical 
or phonetic — of his original patronymic. Thus, 
Moses, who may not like to be called Moses, will 
not think of calling himself Johnson or Wilkins : 
he becomes Moss, Morris, or Morse, as Shadrach 
becomes Sherrington. Jonas would rather miss a 
profitable discount transaction than sign himself 
Montmorency or Higginbottom on any bill, 
warrant, or quittance whatsoever ; but he has not 
the slightest objection to write himself Jones. On 
the same principle, Solomon manages to appease 
the manes of his Hebrew fathers by retaining 
a large proportion of the ancestral title in various 
forms. 

The individual who did this with the greatest 
success of all was one Nathan Levi by name. 
Anxious to show originality in his choice, and 
feeling that a new variety of his patronymic was 
called for, he one day boldly blossomed out as Mr. 
Leviathan. 

When, in old days, a young man had come 
to the end of his tether, and there was nothing 
before him but a prolonged incarceration or a 
bolt to Calais or Boulogne, the alternative was a 
rich marriage. This alternative not a few re- 
garded in a very cynical manner. 

" I'm in a fine way ; I shall certainly be arrested ; 
I can't save my liberty — that is certain," said a 
handsome young fellow who was at his wits' end to 



78 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

escape arrest. " All I can do is to try to lose it my 
own way. Of the two, 'tis better to marry than go 
to gaol ; but at whose suit I shall be obliged to 
surrender myself, my wife's or my creditors', 
depends entirely on whether the bailiff or the parson 
does his business quickest." 

Sometimes, when married, such spendthrifts 
made excellent husbands ; but this was the ex- 
ception rather than the rule. More often, they 
caught a tartar, who, fully equal to their tricks, paid 
them out in their own coin. 

One jovial blade, noted for keeping late hours, 
continued after his marriage to come home about 
two every morning. One night, however, he con- 
cluded to go home early, and accordingly he 
arrived at his house at midnight. In answer to his 
knock, his wife opened a window and inquired, 
*' Who is there ?" " William," was the reply. 
" No," said she, " that won't do for me ; my William 
won't be home for two hours yet ;" and the poor 
fellow was kept shivering outside till his usual hour. 

Occasionally such marriages came to a speedy 
end, as in the case of the spendthrift who, when 
his wife remonstrated with him on his conduct, 
pleaded : " My dear, 1 am only like the Prodigal 
Son ; I shall reform by-and-by." Upon this, the 
lady — a woman of considerable spirit — rejoined : 
" And I will be like the Prodigal Son too. I will 
arise and go to my father's house." And off' 
she went. 



CHAPTER IV 

A JOVIAL SPIRIT — BUCKS DUELLISTS 

A TYPICAL man of pleasure of a past age was the 
third Duke of Rutland, whose jovial administration 
as Viceroy, to which office he was appointed when 
thirty-three, was long remembered in Dublin. 

The Duke was fond of mixing in all sorts of 
society ; and he had many amusing adventures. 
With Colonel St. Leger and some other boon 
companions, he strolled one night into an inn kept 
by a well-known character — Darby Monaghan. 

The latter, who knew His Grace by sight, took 
good care that the entertainment should be such as 
to give every satisfaction to his guests, and he 
contrived to season it with such an abundant flow 
of native wit and drollery that they were quite 
delighted with him. His wine and whisky-punch 
were so good that by two in the morning they 
were all very jolly, and ready to sally out into the 
street in quest of any amusing adventure. The 
diplomatic Darby prevented this, contriving by the 
humour of his songs and the waggishness of his 
jests to hold his party fascinated safe beneath his 
roof. One after another, the guests became more 
and more exhilarated, until they had reached a 

79 



80 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

pitch when all the party were ready for any piece 
of mischief or fun. 

" Landlord," said the Duke, " you are a glorious 
fellow, and an honour to your country ! What 
can I do for you, my boy? Damme, I'll knight you ; 
so down upon your marrow-bones this instant !" 

" Your Grace's high commands shall be obeyed," 
said Darby, kneeling. 

The Duke drew his sword, and although Colonel 
St. Leger endeavoured to prevent his carrying the 
joke too far, he struck Darby over the shoulder, 
uttering the ominous words, " Rise up, Sir Darby 
Monaghan !" 

Darby having humbly thanked His Grace, and 
sworn fealty to the King of England in a bumper, 
an immense bowl of punch was ordered in and 
prosperity was drunk to the new knight. 

The whole party then had a glorious carouse, sitting 
so late that they decided to pass the night at the inn. 

The next morning, Darby, accustomed to be 
about early, and as fit as a fiddle, went to call the 
Duke, and informed him that a good breakfast was 
ready for his party. Everyone sat down in good 
humour except Colonel St. Leger, who at last said : 

" I am afraid, my Lord Duke, your Excellency 
made a bit of a blunder last night ; you conferred 
the honour of knighthood on our landlord." 

" Did I, by Heaven !" exclaimed His Grace. 

" That you did," replied the Colonel. 

" How unfortunate ! AVhy didn't you prevent 
me i 

" I endeavoured to do so with all my might, 
but your Excellency's arm was too quick ; and I 



"NONSENSE ABOUT A SWORD "^ 81 

preferred seeing your weapon fall upon his shoulder 
rather than have it thrust into me." 

" It's an unfortunate affair !" exclaimed the 
startled Duke ; '• but I suppose the fellow doesn't 
recollect the circumstances more than myself. Let 
us call him in. I wouldn't have such a thing 
get about London for the world. I should become 
the laughing-stock of everyone at Court, and very 
likely be recalled." 

" Both possible and true," replied the Colonel ; 
" but let us ring for Darby, and hear what he himself 
knows about the matter." 

Darby, who was standing just outside the door, 
heard all that passed, and resolved to resist every 
attempt at depriving him of his newly-acquired 
honours. 

The Duke, determined to set matters right, now 
called him in. 

'* Well, Darby," said he, " I am afraid we were 
all rather foolish last night." 

" I don't remember anything at all, your Grace, 
except that my head was whizzing like a top this 
morning." 

*' Oh !" said the Duke, much relieved, " you 
don't recollect all that nonsense about a sword, 
then ?" 

" Well," said Darby, " I remember the whack 
yer Excellency's Royl Highness gave me with 
that same sword over my shoulder, when ye bid 
me ' Rise up. Sir Darby Monaghan.' " 

This staggered the Viceroy. 

" You don't presume to suppose," said he, " that 
I knighted you in fun or anything of that sort ?" 

6 



82 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

" Shure," replied the landlord, " I wouldn't be 
after doing yer Highness such discredit as to think 
ye meant to break yer royl word to man or mortal." 

The Duke racked his brains to find a way out. 

" Come," said he, " I'll give you a tide-waiter's 
place, or something in the Excise, that will bring 
you in about one hundred and fifty pounds a year, 
and make you independent for life." 

" Well," persisted Darby, " I'd rather keep the 
title ; for, d'ye see, it '11 be such a wonderment for 
a punch-house to be kept by Sir Darby Monaghan, 
that I'll soon have all the custom of Dublin city, and 
that '11 be better than a tide-waither's place, anyhow." 

Eventually, after further discussion, the Duke 
promised that if Darby would abandon all claim to 
the knighthood he should have a place worth 
£250 a year, and the latter in high glee said he 
would accept it, provided her ladyship, as he 
called Mrs. Monaghan, was agreeable. This lady 
very wisely, and without hesitation, voted for the 
income of £250, which they enjoyed for many years. 
The title, too, stuck by them till the last ; years later 
the aiFair was bruited abroad, to the great amuse- 
ment of the middle and lower orders in Dublin, who 
never failed to address the fortunate couple by the 
appellations of " Sir Darby and Lady Monaghan." 

The genial Viceroy had but a short life. He 
died during his term of office at the early age of 
thirty-four. 

Like the Duke of Rutland, many men of rank 
and fashion in old days delighted in visiting queer 
resorts, and seeing for themselves what low life 
really was. AVhen a celebrated criminal or high- 



A LITTLE BUSINESS NEAR SALT HILL 83 

way man was captured, bucks and dandies flocked 
to see him in Newgate. 

When the highwayman Hawkes — a singular 
character, who combined great charity to the 
Uxbridge poor with robbery on the road — was 
thrown into prison, Colonel George Hanger, (after- 
wards Lord Coleraine), a famous man of pleasure, 
at once went to see him. He had heard that the 
highwayman possessed a wonderful horse ; and he 
was anxious to buy it. He rode specially from 
Newmarket to London for the purpose, arriving 
at length, after a wet and dirty journey, very 
much bedraggled — in dirty boots, surtout coat, and 
round hat, which in those days no gentlemen wore 
in London. Just as he was when he dismounted 
from his horse he went to Newgate, and desired to 
see Mr. Hawkes, but without telling the turnkey 
who he was. The turnkey called Hawkes out of 
the tap-room, and the prisoner was simply told 
that an acquaintance wanted to speak to him. 
After calling for a bottle of wine, and condoling 
with him on his situation. Colonel Hanger entered 
on his business with Hawkes, telling him he knew 
he had a famous mare, and that he much wished 
to buy her. " The mare," said Hawkes, " is a 
good mare still, though she has done a good deal 
of work ; and, moreover, is as fast a one as I ever 
crossed." " Pray, Mr. Hawkes, what is the 
greatest distance, in point of expedition, you ever 
rode her ?" " Why, sir, the longest ground, in a 
short time, that she ever carried me, was one even- 
ing when, after doing a little business near Salt 
Hill, I rode her within the hour to London." 



84 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

" She must be very speedy indeed," Hanger 
replied ; and no more was said about the mare's 
performances. The visitor then made Hawkes a 
present of two or three guineas, and told him that, 
as the mare was to be sold for the benefit of the 
captors, he hoped he would not deceive him, but 
tell him frankly whether he would recommend 
him to buy her or not. " Sir," answered he, " it is 
not likely that a man so near his latter end as I 
am (for there is hardly any chance of my escaping), 
should deceive anyone ; therefore, sir, pray tell 
me, for what purpose do you want her ?'" Hanger 
replied, for the road, and only for the road. " Then, 
sir," said he, taking the Colonel for one of his own 
calling, " I v/ill fairly tell you that I recommend 
you not to purchase her, for 1 do not think she will 
suit you, as it was with the greatest difficulty / 
could ever get her up to a carriage."" 

Hawkes was a brave and charitable fellow. 
Riding one day near Uxbridge, well dressed and 
well mounted, he met an industrious labourer, who 
stopped him, and said : " Gentleman, don't ride 
that way, as there are two footpads gone up that 
lane, who have just robbed me." " What have you 
lost ?" said Hawkes. " Ten or twelve shilHngs," 
replied the man ; " all I have earned by hard labour 
to support a wife and family during a week." 
" Take this pistol, then, in your hand," said 
Hawkes, " and get up behind me, and show me the 
man who robbed you." The countryman accord- 
ingly sprang up behind him, and they soon overtook 
the footpads ; they then dismounted, and Hawkes, 
after asking them if they were not ashamed to rob 



GEORGE HANGER 85 

a poor labourer, knocked one down, whilst the 
countryman seized the other. Hawkes took every- 
thing from them, beat them soundly, and gave the 
spoils to the countryman. He then mounted his 
horse, and rode off, telling the grateful, astonished 
rustic to remember the flying highwayman. 

On another occasion, after robbing three or four 
stage-coaches before break of day in the neighbour- 
hood of London, he stopped one in which was a 
lieutenant of a man-of-war. The lieutenant pre- 
sented a long horse-pistol at Hawkes, and told him 
to stand off, or he would shoot him. Hawkes 
said he was determined to rob the coach. The 
lieutenant replied : " I have got but a small sum 
of money, which I do not know how to replace, 
and I am resolved that you shall not have it." 
" Then," said Hawkes, " get out of the coach ; I 
don't want to take a small pittance from a poor 
officer, who has earned it hardly in his country's 
service. But mind you, sir, I will most assuredly 
rob this coach, and I shall advance immediately ; 
therefore, be sure you take good aim, so as to be 
certain of killing me, for, on my honour, I shall 
not fire till my pistol touches your head." The 
lieutenant accordingly got out of the coach, and 
Hawkes robbed the other passengers ; he then wished 
the lieutenant good-morning, and rode off. 

George Hanger was a curious character in many 
ways. At Eton he studied everything but his books. 
He was even then fond of dog and gun, and during 
the day, out of school-hours, he was generally en- 
gaged in the sports of the field. By night, game of 
another kind engrossed his whole attention. Like 



86 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

many other precocious youths of his day, he passed 
as much time as he could in female society. 

A carpenter's wife was his first flame, and often 
he risked his life getting over the roof of his 
boarding-house at night to pass a few hours with 
some favourite grisette of Windsor. During the 
latter part of his time at Eton, to perfect his 
education, he became attached to, and was much 
enamoured of, the daughter of a vendor of cabbages. 
Ovid's " Epistles " were totally laid aside for his 
"Art of Love," in which Hanger made con- 
siderable progress. The bigger boys then had a 
very precocious custom every Sunday of resorting 
to what they called " Castle prayers at Windsor," 
which in reality was going to pay court to certain 
flighty damsels. 

Lord Coleraine, George Hanger's brother, famil- 
iarly known as " Blue Hanger," from the colour 
of his clothes, was, perhaps, the best-dressed man of 
his age ; and he was no less remarkable for his 
politeness and good-humour. Heavy losses at play 
when he was a young man compelled him to retire 
into France in order to avoid his creditors ; and 
there he remained upwards of twelve years, until 
the death of his elder brother. The long sojourn 
in a foreign country so changed him that when 
he came to the title he returned to England a 
complete Frenchman. 

On his first visit to Drury Lane Theatre his 
natural turn for pleasantry brought him into a 
rencontre that gave him some uneasiness. Seeing 
a gentleman in boots enter the box where he was 
sitting in the dress circle, and place himself on the 



COVENT GARDEN 87 

seat just before him rather abruptly, his ideas of 
etiquette could not well brook what in France 
would have been considered a breach of decorum. 
Accordingly, he addressed him in the following 
words : " I beg, sir, you will make no apology !" 

" Apology, sir !" replied the stranger ; " apology 
for what ?" 

" Why," returned his lordship, pointing down 
towards the boots, " that you did not bring your 
horse with you into the box." 

" Perhaps it is lucky for you, sir," retorted the 
stranger, " that I did not bring my horsewhip ; but 
I have a remedy at hand, and I will pull your nose 
for your impertinence." Some other gentlemen in 
the box then interfered ; an exchange of cards took 
place, and both parties left the theatre. 

"Blue" went immediately to his brother George at 
Brooks's, and having stated the particulars, begged 
his assistance to get him out of the scrape, " which," 
said he, " may end in bloodshed. I acknowledge," 
he continued, " that I was the first aggressor ; but 
it was too bad to threaten to pull my nose. What 
had I better do ?" 

" Soap it well," replied George, " and then it will 
easily slip through his fingers." George, however, 
accommodated the affair to the satisfaction of all 
parties by explaining to the stranger that his brother 
had resided so long in France as almost to have 
forgotten the customs of his countrymen. 

The lobby of Covent Garden was at that time 
a favourite resort of male and female pleasure- 
seekers, and old pictures (one of which is here 
reproduced) show it thronged by numbers of the 



88 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

frail sisterhood, who used it for the purpose of 
meeting their admirers. 

A certain type of man, known as a " box-lobby 
lounger," made a practice of looking in there every 
night, much as in the eighties men of pleasure used 
to make a practice of going every night to the 
promenade of some music-hall. 

The habits of men-about-town are much the same 
in every generation, though there was perhaps more 
deliberate selfishness connected with them a hundred 
years ago, when so many of the rich let nothing 
stand in the way of their whims. Fox-hunting in 
the country, dissipation in town, then occupied 
the time of most wealthy young fellows, to the 
entire exclusion of all serious considerations. It is, 
however, only fair to remember, that they were then 
seriously handicapped by the absurd prejudice which 
existed against a gentleman going into business. 

The life of a man-about-town in the early part of 
the nineteenth century was about as useless and 
futile as it is possible to conceive. On the other 
hand, it must be remembered that many a buck 
fought gallantly for his country in Wellington's 
campaigns. Perhaps the reaction from his usual 
idle round made him bear with the greater 
equanimity the hardships of a soldier's profession 
and the dangers of the battle-field. 

The London life of a young man of fashion about 
1800 does not seem to have been very enlivening. 
He rose about ten in the morning, and having 
taken a slight breakfast, put on his riding-coat 
and repaired to his stables. Having inspected his 
horses, asked a thousand questions of his coachman 



HIS DAILY ROUND 89 

and grooms, and given as many orders, he either 
rode on horseback or in his curricle, attended by 
two grooms, dashing through all the fashionable 
streets into Hyde Park. If, however, the weather 
was unfavourable, he took his chariot, and visited 
the shops of the most noted coachmakers and 
saddlers, who never failed to receive him with pro- 
found respect. After ordering something or 
other, he next repaired to Tattersalls', where he 
met his friends seriously engaged in studying the 
pedigree or merits of horses, or in discussing the 
invaluable properties of a pointer, setter, greyhound, 
or other sporting animal. 

He then drove from one exhibition to another, 
looked in at the caricature shops, and, about three, 
went to a fashionable hotel ; there he took his 
lunch, read the papers, arranged his parties for the 
evening, and at five strolled home to find his 
clothes laid out and his valet waiting. He looked 
at the cards which had been left for him in the 
course of the morning, and gave his orders accord- 
ingly. At seven he was dressed, and either went 
to some party to dinner, or returned to the hotel, 
where he had previously arranged with some friends 
the order of the day — or rather, night. At nine 
he went to the play, not to see it, which would 
have been a shocking infringement of the laws of 
fashionable decorum, but to flit from box to box, 
to look at ladies whom he knew, and to show him- 
self to others whom he did not ; to lounge about 
the lobbies, to take a review of the frail fair ones in 
the coffee-room, and, finally, to saunter back to his 
carriage. He then drove to a rout, a ball, or the 



90 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

faro-bank of some lady of distinction, who concealed 
her own poverty by displaying the full purses of 
others. About four in the morning, exhausted 
with fatigue, he returned home, to begin again the 
next morning the follies of the past day. 

The bucks of the past devoted great attention to 
their dress, to the tying of their elaborate neck- 
cloths, to their hair, and, when they came into 
fashion, to their whiskers. 

One military dandy, when whiskers began to be 
worn, was so desirous of putting these adornments 
upon the " new establishment " that he went over 
to Ireland, where he lived obscurely during their 
growth. Only when they had reached the 
necessary fulness and length, when they could be 
cut by rule — four inches and a half deep by three 
inches wide — did he return to England. He came 
back home specially for the cutting operation, 
and declared that his whiskers at this time were so 
thick and long that, upon Truefitt's trimming 
them, the floor was strewed with sufficient hair 
to supply a whole regiment of hussars with 
moustaches. 

This same buck was very proud of his whiskers, 
and seldom lost an opportunity of referring to 
them. One windy day he was walking down Pall 
Mall with a lady who had on an immense French 
bonnet, which, as the couple approached Waterloo 
Place, was in danger of being blown off; two 
of the buck's friends, walking as close as 
possible with the idea of catching a glimpse of the 
lady's pretty face, heard the following dialogue : 
" Dear me !" exclaimed the lady, " how shock- 



MYSTIFYING A BARBER 91 

ingly high the wind is ! There is no keeping my 
bonnet in place." " Lodge the brim of it in my 
left whisker, my darling," said the dandy, " and it 
will be perfectly secure." 

Two twin-brothers — men - about - town — well 
known for their love of amusement, once played 
an extraordinary joke upon a French barber, whom 
they completely mystified. In height, size, features, 
complexion, and colour of hair, they exactly re- 
sembled one another, and when they were both 
dressed in similar costume, there was no telling 
which was which. 

A fashionable French coiffeur was just then all 
the rage in the West End, and the twins agreed to 
have some fun with him. The elder arranged to 
be shaved for three months, paying a liberal sum 
down, no stipulation as to the number of times a 
day being made. At first one brother would 
undergo the operation one day, and the other, 
successfully personating him, would occupy the 
same seat the day following. Now, neither of the 
brothers could boast of a remarkably heavy beard, 
and it was therefore a matter of astonishment to 
the French coiffeur to perceive how very rapidly, 
to all appearance, the hirsute covering of the chin 
and upper lip of his quarterly customer grew. 

" Monsieur," said he good-humouredly, as he 
was one day lathering the well-known face, " I 
have shave plenty beards vat looked strong as de 
diable, but I sail nevare shave von beard zat sail 
grow as zis beard of yours." 

Matters went on smoothly until one of the 
brothers missed his accustomed day ; the other. 



92 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

however, underwent the usual operation the next 
morning, and was operated upon by the dexterous 
fingers of the French coiffeur liimself That same 
evening his brother, with a beard of nearly four 
days' growth, entered the saloon, and seating him- 
self in an easy-chair, requested the coiffeur to shave 
him as rapidly as possible, as he was going to a 
party. 

Perhaps the operator had a thought that shaving 
the same individual twice a day was rather a 
large order, but he said nothing until, as he 
w^as tucking the napkin under the chin, his gaze 
was fascinated by the extraordinary growth of 
what he supposed to be only a few hours. 

" Mon Dieu !" at length he gasped, " monsieur, 
zis is ze most magnifique barbe in ze country." And 
bestowing a goodly cup of lather upon the face 
and chin of his customer, he continued : " Diable ! 
I have shave many years, but I nevare shave one 
beard vat grew so much as zis !" 

The customer, in his effort to suppress his 
laughter, gulped down a disagreeable portion of 
the lather ; but he nevertheless succeeded in 
avoiding a loud explosion. He reserved the 
dmouement for the next day, when both brothers 
entered the saloon together, and stood before the 
amazed hairdresser. 

In a few words they explained the joke which 
had been played upon him, and made all right by 
paying him a double fee for the quarter. 

" Ah, messieurs," he said, " I have shave much, 
but I nevare sail shave two barbes so ver mosh 
like as dese barbes vat you have." Then, after a 



"VON LITTLE MISTAKE" 93 

thoughtful pause, he asked : " Messieurs, you are 
married ?" 

Upon being answered in the negative, he winked 
his eyes, nodded his head, and remarked : 

" Zen, messieurs, if you sail get marry, it is ver 
mosh best zat you sail live ver far apart, or you 
sail see ze vives sail make von little mistake, ze 
same as I make with ze barbes." 

Very curious was the life of an impecunious 
man-about-town in the days when arrest for debt 
was common. Very likely he would be walking 
down St. James's Street or Pall Mall, with a smart 
buggy and high stepper following him, whilst a 
bailiff lurked at almost every corner to serve him 
with a writ. 

Such officials, however, were usually gentle 
enough Mdth popular men-about-town, and did not 
obtrude themselves at inconvenient moments ; 
besides, they always knew where they could find 
their victims. 

In the spunging-houses he was very popular, 
especially with the daughters of the house, by 
whom he was regarded, in fact, as quite a friend of 
the family ! 

Anyone with expectations could at that time 
obtain practically unlimited credit. 

The old-established tradesmen were seldom 
averse from good investments, knowing they would 
be paid eventually. Accordingly, they were glad 
when, after years of waiting, their bills passed at 
length into the hands of the lawyers. The bills, 
thus treated, ultimately become transformed into 
bonds, with five per cent, interest, clear of income- 



94 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

tax. The bills signed, they cheerfully opened a 
fresh account, and had the satisfaction of watching 
it grow larger and larger as before, while the 
interest on their bonds accumulated just as that on 
their bills had done. Thus everybody was pleased. 
Shrewd men-about-town, heirs to large estates, 
were only too ready to fall in with such an 
arrangement, being aware that if they could only 
hold out long enough, in consequence of a death 
or a dispute in the firm, West End tradesmen's 
affairs not infrequently got into Chancery, when 
nothing more of their claims was likely to be heard 
of during a debtor's Hfetime. Nine times out of 
ten, however, the tradesmen lost nothing. The 
custom of men of fashion was of itself almost as 
good as a fortune. A well-known buck had so 
many imitators to follow his lead into a shop that 
such debts as he contracted were usually more 
than outbalanced by the sums spent and paid by 
less fashionable folk who followed his lead. 

Dashing officers were especially improvident ; 
the daily pay of an ensign in the Guards, 
which amounted to about four shillings a day, 
would not have paid his tailor for one single button 
and buttonhole of the elaborate suits which were 
then in vogue. 

About 1821 great sums were expended upon 
men's dress. As the illustration shows, a tendency 
towards exaggeration prevailed, whilst there also 
seems to have been a good deal of affectation 
about men of fashion. The old school were 
much horrified at this. One of them, going to 
see his nephew, a young Baronet, about twelve 




OD J^ 



MILITARY BUCKS 95 

in the morning, found him sipping a cup of 
chocolate in bed, and asking if the French tailor 
had brought his stays. " Zounds !" cried Sir John, 
" is the fellow ill ? I always got up at six, and 
ordered out the cold beef and a tankard of October, 
and filled myself well out, and never wanted stays 
to keep myself together." 

Military dandies belonging to crack regiments, 
when deeply involved in debt, had generally rich 
relatives who would set them on their feet again, 
but officers of marching regiments were generally 
not so lucky. Not a few, from the time they 
obtained their commission to the end of their 
military career, were in constant difficulties. A 
conspicuous instance of this was a certain young 
Colonel who, owing to great gallantry in the field, 
had received command of a regiment. Though a 
magnificent fellow, he was always in financial 
difficulties, and whatever debts he paid were 
generally discharged through the agency of a 
friend. This friend — one of his Majors, Vowell by 
name — was a gentleman of as much tact in the 
settlement of a bill as his commanding officer was 
in contracting the same ; the Major was especially 
expert at lopping off extra charges ; and whenever 
opportunity arose, adroitly delayed payment till 
some convenient and far-distant date. 

The Colonel's regiment at one time happened to 
be quartered in a rather amusing part of Ireland, 
where the officers were very hospitably entertained. 
In return for this hospitality, when the time came 
for them to change their quarters, the gallant 
officer invited all the local gentry to a ball and 



96 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

supper on the evening before his regiment was to 
march. 

In due course the entertainment, given at the 
principal inn or hotel, took place. Dozens and 
dozens of the best claret and champagne were 
opened and quaffed ; all was hilarity and exhilara- 
tion, which reached its climax when a most splendid 
supper was set before the guests. During the 
whole of this time, the gallant Colonel, with his 
grand chamberlain and secretary, the " Major," did 
the honours of the assembly in a manner exceed- 
ingly creditable to the regiment. The two were 
to be seen everywhere, in polite attendance on the 
guests — the male portion of whom loudly and 
repeatedly expressed their satisfaction by toasts 
and healths, whilst the ladies sighed at the prospect 
of being so soon deprived of the society of a corps 
containing so many fine fellows. 

When the dancing had recommenced after supper, 
the landlord thought the time had come to present 
his bill, with the result that he set out to find the 
Colonel. To his dismay, however, the latter was 
nowhere to be found — he having, with his factotum 
the Major, taken his departure just in the nick of 
time to escape the presentation of the bill. 

Coming across one of the other officers, the poor 
landlord, now much dismayed, said, " Captain, 
where is the Colonel?" to which the latter, thor- 
oughly understanding the drift of the question, 
replied : 

" Gone, I fancy. He always was great at a 
retreat." 

Upon this, the landlord, greatly chagrined at 



I.O.U. 97 

such bad news, exclaimed, " Begorra, then, has he 
walked off with himself entirely? If so, by the 
holy poker, I'm clane done out of house and home. 
But, Captain, sure enough the Colonel must have 
left Vowell to settle the score ?" 

"Not only one Vowell," was the reply, "but 
three of them — I.O.U."; and this turned out to be 
the case. " Was the Colonel a very popular man 
when he lived in your town ?" some time later 
inquired a busybody of this landlord. " I should 
think so," was the reply ; " when he left, no end of 
people tried to prevent his leaving, and several of 
them, including the sheriff's deputy, followed him 
for miles." 

A despairing creditor of the Colonel once 
wrote : 

" Sir, — Your account has been standing for two 
years. I must have it settled immediately." 

To which came the reply : 

" Sir, — Things usually do settle by standing ; I 
regret that my account is an exception. If it has 
been standing too long, suppose you let it run a 
little while." 

Some men-about-town were so careless about 
their debts that they did not even know when 
they were liable to arrest. 

Two brothers, who were everlastingly in debt, 
were once at a party where they both enjoyed 
themselves hugely, until the elder, looking out at 
the window, descried at the door a gentleman who 

7 



98 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

had all the appearance of a sheriff's officer. *' Fred, 
my boy," said he to his brother, " yonder's a man 
who wants me. It will be awkward to be arrested 
to-night. Do me a good turn ; go out, and let him 
take you. You can explain to him his mistake 
later, when he will let you off, and we shall both 
be free." This seemed clear enough, and Fred, 
having consented, sallied forth. The sherifTs man, 
with a polite bow, apologized for arresting him. 
" It's my dooty," said he ; and away they trudged. 
" I will make a purchase or two," remarked the 
prisoner, " before you go to Whitecross Street. 
You are in no hurry, I suppose ?" " Not at all, sir," 
was the response. In this way an hour was whiled 
away, when the prisoner, thinking he had had 
enough of the joke, turned round and said : " Now, 
you are a deuced clever fellow, are you not ? You 

think you have got Mr. , whereas you have 

only got his younger brother." " Not at all, sir," 
was the reply. " I came for you, sir," and at once 
marched the discomfited debtor off to the spunging- 
house. 

The stratagems and tricks resorted to by wild 
bucks when hard pressed, were endless in their 
variety. 

A small- sized sheriff's officer, rather light of wit, 
one day went to serve a capias upon an original- 
minded spendthrift. After a long search he 
eventually found his man in a field. On explaining 
his business he was requested to read his capias, 
which commenced as usual, " You are hereby com- 
manded without delay to take the body of, &c." 
" Humph !" says the prisoner, stretching himself on 



A WILY BUCK 99 

his back, " I'm ready." " Oh, but you don't expect 
me to carry you in my arms ?" " Certainly ; you 
must take my body, you know. I do not resist the 
process of the law, but submit with cheerfulness." 
" Will you wait until I can bring a cart ? " " Can't 
promise. I may recover from my fatigue in the 
meantime." " Well, what must I do ?" " You 
must do your duty," And there he lay immovable 
until the sheriff left, when he went off in another 
direction. 

It is extraordinary how the dashing blades of 
that day contrived to get on. Not a few never 
had any money, never paid a debt if it was possible 
to avoid it, and yet managed to owe something 
to almost everyone who knew them. 

" My dear sir," said a wily buck, with a 
benevolent smile, to a creditor who called about 
his bill, " I meant to pay your account — in fact, 
it should have been paid before, but I was dis- 
appointed in not receiving some money which I 
had calculated on. Mr. X " (naming a very rich 
man) "owes me money, and I have expected it 
every day for a month. When he pays up, I'll pay 
you." This was his answer time after time. 

At the mention of this individual's name the 
confiding creditor always pricked up his ears, and 
appeared to take courage. In this way, continually 
keeping X's name in the foreground, the buck was 
enabled to move along and contract new debts. 

One day, X, who, as has been said, was noted 
for his wealth, called upon this spendthrift. 

" Look here," said the former. " I owe you ten 
pounds. Give me a receipt and I'll pay you." 



100 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

" In the name of Heaven I beg of you not to do 
it !" cried the buck in alarm, all his cool assurance 
leaving him. 

X looked at the man in astonishment. 

" Don't want your money ?" he gasped in as- 
tonishment. 

" Not a shilling of it. Keep it for me, and 
don't pay me until I tell you that I am in earnest 
in wanting it !" 

" What is the meaning of it ?" 

" I'll tell you," replied the buck in a confidential 
tone. " By means of that ten pounds which you 
owe me I am enabled to get credit for a thousand, 
besides bluffing all my old creditors." 

The most objectionable sort of buck, perhaps, 
was the rowdy, knocker-wrenching, watch-beat- 
ing buck, who, as a type, became obsolete about 
ninety years ago. Revellers of this sort, when 
arrested and hauled before a magistrate, usually 
declared that the first attack had been made upon 
them — "upon my honour, your Worship." The 
magistrate usually reprobated their conduct in 
strong terms, and would proceed to say he was 
not certain whether he should commit upon the 
felony or the assault. At this, culprits generally 
pricked up their ears, appearing much alarmed, 
fearful of their fate. In the course of the day, 
however, after being allowed to apply some 
" sovereign " remedies for the injury done, and, after 
a suitable admonition, they were discharged. There 
was scarcely a night passed without what was 
then called a spree with the Charlies ; and peace- 
ful citizens became quite accustomed to witnessing 



SENSELESS HORSEPLAY 101 

some senseless blackguard rowdyness when walking 
quietly home to their beds. The modus operandi 
was as follows : Half-a-dozen swells proceeded to 
wrench off all the knockers that came in their way. 
If the guardians of the peace interfered, a general 
fight took place. Occasionally a watchman was 
found asleep in his box, when it was immediately 
upset, and the Dogberry found himself sprawling 
in the mud, until extricated by a brother Verges. 
The most heartless joke was for a party to hire 
a hackney coach, having previously armed them- 
selves with potatoes or penny-pieces, for the 
purpose of breaking lamps, windows, and chemists' 
glass bottles on their drive through the main streets. 
The whole thing was brutal and senseless horseplay 
which never deserved to be called fun. 

Occasionally, however, some little wit was dis- 
played by disturbers of the peace. Such a case 
arose when a few evil-disposed wags, returning 
late from a drinking bout, unfixed a washerwoman's 
board, which informed the public, " Mangling done 
here," and affixed it just above the doorplate of 
a surgeon, a few streets farther on. 

Witty also was the buck who approached a 
guardian of law and order who was trying to 
raise from the gutter a strayed and incapable 
reveller. 

" Who is he ?" asked the buck. 

" Can't say, sir," was the reply ; " he can't give an 
account of himself." 

" Of course not," cried the buck. " How do you 
expect an account from a man who has lost his 
balance ?" 



102 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

In the eighteenth century a nobleman, or even a 
gentleman of good family, was known by his dress. 
This he wore not only on " Court" days and special 
occasions, but in the streets, and at evening parties 
or other gatherings at home or at the coffee- 
houses and clubs. Fox and his friends were among 
the first to affect a carelessness about costume, and 
the habit quickly spread from them to others of the 
fashionable world. The old fashions, however, did 
not entirely perish till about 1793, when the French 
Revolution began to influence dress all over Europe. 
It was then that pantaloons, cropped hair, and shoe- 
strings, as well as the total abolition 6f buckles and 
ruffles, and the disuse of hair-powder, characterized 
the dress of Englishmen. A good deal of swearing 
then prevailed amongst the bucks. 

Some person asked Charles James Fox what was 
the meaning of that passage in the Psalms, " He 
clothed himself with cursing, like as with a gar- 
ment." " The meaning," said he, " I think, is clear 
enough : the man had a habit of swearing." 

Though oaths were common, those who used 
them probably did so more from custom than any- 
thing else. " Don't be distressed," said a certain 
dandy to a clergyman who had reproved him for 
his language ; " I swear a great deal, and you pray 
a great deal, but neither of us means anything 
by it !" 

Even in the age of hard swearing there were 
dashing blades who, hating bad language, did all 
they could to prevent its use. Such a one was a 
gallant naval officer who, when about to take the 
command of a new ship, and reading his orders to 




A FASHIONABLE MAN IN ISOO. 
From an'old print. 



DASHING OFFICERS 103 

the crew on the quarter-deck, said : " There is one 
favour I will ask you, and which, as a British 
officer, I expect will be granted by a crew of British 
seamen. What say you, my lads — are you willing 
to grant your new captain one favour ?" " Ay, 
ay !" cried all hands. " Let's know what it is, sir." 
" Well, my lads, it is this — that you will allow me 
to swear the first oath in this ship. If any of us 
are to swear at all, surely the Captain should be 
allowed such a privilege. I am not asking much." 
The appeal seemed so reasonable and the manner 
of the Captain so kind and prepossessing, that a 
general shout from the ship's company answered 
"Ay, ay, sir!" with the usual three cheers. As 
the first oath was never sworn, the sailors had 
no chance of a second, and there was no swearing 
on the ship. 

During the time of the Napoleonic wars, and 
later in England as in France, a military officer was 
generally accounted a dashing fellow, endowed with 
all the mystery of a hero of romance. Girls fell in 
love with him ; beaux envied him ; no man dared 
offend him. The danger of giving offence lay in 
the alleged duelling propensities of the officers, and 
the mere commoner feared to receive an invitation 
to coffee and pistols at five next morning, with the 
pleasant prospect of a bullet lodged exactly in the 
centre of his heart. The entry of some dashing 
Captain or Colonel would cause every eye in a 
crowded ballroom to turn towards the door, and 
every female heart to palpitate in the most sur- 
prising manner. What a change from the present 
day, when the scientific officer is usually reputed 



104 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

to be as innocent of gallantry as a saint, and often 
is as solemn as an owl ! 

In 1751 two military officers, stationed in the 
town of Dublin, quarrelled over their wine about 
some ladies. The following morning one of them 
sent a challenge to his companion, to which the 
latter returned the following answer : 

" Sir, — I reckon it my peculiar happiness that I 
can produce the officers and soldiers who witnessed 
my behaviour at Fontenoy as evidences of my 
courage. You may endeavour, if you please, to 
propagate my refusing your challenge and brand me 
with cowardice ; but I am fully convinced that 
nobody will believe me guilty, and everybody will 
see that you are malicious. The cause in which we 
quarrelled was a trifle ; the blood of a soldier should 
be reserved for a nobler purpose. Love is blind, 
resentment mean, and taste capricious ; and it 
ought to be considered that murder, though palliated 
by a false show of honour, is murder still, and calls 
for vengeance." 

Of a very different disposition was the swagger- 
ing young officer, who heard someone celebrating 
the exploits of a duellist reported to have killed six 
men with his own hand. " Bah !" said he, " I 
would have you know that the very mattresses I 
sleep upon are stuffed with nothing else but the 
whiskers of those men whom I have sent to slumber 
in the other world." 

A little fop, conceiving himself insulted by a 
gentleman who ventured to give him some whole- 







w O 



a cq 
03 



CURIOUS WEAPONS 105 

some advice, strutted up to him with an air of 
importance, and said : " Sir, you are no gentleman ! 
Here is my card ; consider yourself challenged. 
Should I be from home when you honour me with 
a call, 1 shall leave word with a friend to settle all 
the preliminaries to your satisfaction." To which 
the other replied : " Sir, you are a fool ! Here is my 
card ; consider your nose pulled. And should I 
not be at home when you call on me, you will find 
I have left orders with my servant to show or kick 
you into the street for your impudence." 

On the Continent at one time people fought for 
nothing at all. An Italian nobleman is said to 
have fought sixteen duels upon the question, " Who 
was the better poet — Ariosto or Tasso ?" Being 
mortally wounded in the sixteenth fight, he con- 
fessed, as he lay dying, that he had never read either. 

At the beginning of the nineteenth century in 
England there arose a disposition to laugh at 
duelling. Lord Northland, for instance, being 
asked by a friend which he considered the best 
weapons to choose in the event of being called out, 
replied that, in his opinion, the best way of settling 
such disputes was to fight with a couple of bottles 
of "sparkling" champagne (at that time the still 
Sillery was a good deal drunk). Each of the 
duellists should take a bottle, shake it well up, 
and then, after taking aim at his opponent, cut 
the string or wire which held the cork. An even 
better way, added he, was for the two antagonists 
to sit down and empty the bottles in a friendly way, 
after which all animosity would most likely subside. 

The famous John Wilkes must have been a very 



106 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

uncomfortable antagonist in a duel. In his affair 
with Lord Talbot, the latter asked how many 
times they were to fire. " Just as often as your 
lordship pleases. I have brought a bag of bullets 
and a flask of gunpowder." 

Not so very many years ago this incident was 
paralleled when two men-about-town went to fight 
a duel on Calais sands. 

" Have you got the bullets, Harry ?" said one 
of the combatants to his second (who is still 
alive). 

" Yes, five hundred of them !" was the reply. 

" Good God !" said the duellist, " we're not 
going pheasant-shooting !" 

This combat, it may be added, ended — like most 
modern duels — in nothing but smoke. 

Calais sands was a favourite rendezvous for 
English belligerents, to whom twelve paces in their 
own country were debarred by the intervention of 
the law. 

A prompt response was usually made to invita- 
tions to cross the Channel for the purposes of vindi- 
cating honour. Those who declined to go were 
exceptionally strong-minded. Such a one was the 
philosophical spark who, on receiving a note from 
a brother officer who had run away with his wife, 
saying he was waiting at Calais to give him any 
satisfaction he might demand, wrote back to say 
that he already had all the satisfaction he needed 
in being rid of a tiresome wife. 

He had no wish to meet with the tragic fate 
which overtook so many Englishmen on those 
gloomy sands. 



ROOK-SHOOTING 107 

A good many duels, which were in reaUty only 
" polite murders," took place there : the death 
of a sojourner in the town, named Rook, at the 
hands of the exiled desperado JNIontague, may be 
cited as an instance of cool atrocity. 

After a night of play and debauchery at the 
house of a well-known character, " Fat Philips," in 
the Rue de Croy, where a quarrel over cards had 
occurred, a meeting was arranged. Two indivi- 
duals well known in the town acted in the capacity 
of seconds. 

After "killing their man," and leaving him a 
pace or two above high-water mark, the survivors 
returned to breakfast. The surgeon to the party, 
on being interrogated by a friend as to the motive 
of his early rising, replied coolly, "that he had 
been enjoying a little rook-shooting T 



CHAPTER V 

SOME RECKLESS SPENDTHRIFTS 

Looking through our social history, it would 
seem that in the national character very good 
qualities are apt to be balanced by very bad 
ones. 

Merry or mad, coarse or prudish, drunkards 
or teetotallers, misers or gamblers, the English, 
when they are not obliged by circumstances to 
earn their daily bread, often seem unable to realize 
that in most mundane affairs a middle course is 
the most satisfactory one to steer. 

It must be remembered, however, that nowhere 
do the trees grow into the heavens ; and the 
many good qualities of the British race make 
ample amends for the tendency of certain erratic 
individuals whose unstable minds have been but 
slightly affected by a careless education. Not in- 
frequently, indeed, some of these young men, 
having come to years of discretion, had the in- 
tellectual equipment of an idiot. 

One of them, having built himself a large house, 
was at a loss to know what to do with the rubbish. 
His steward advised him to have a pit dug large 
enough to contain it. 

" And what," said the young squire, smiling, 

108 



LOW TASTES 109 

" shall I do with the earth which I dig out 
of it?" 

" Have the pit made large enough to hold all !" 
gravely replied the steward. 

Another, hearing that iron was good for the 
soil, and that it promoted the growth of trees, 
instructed his bailiff to procure a large number 
of old iron rails, which he caused to be spread 
about his shrubbery. Great was his annoyance 
when he found that his young trees continued to 
grow as slowly as ever. Many of the spendthrifts 
of the past were so unintelligent that they were 
men of sorrow rather than men of pleasure. 

The result of their complete lack of mental 
culture was generally an extravagant love of low 
society, ready to pander to every folly and applaud 
every whim. 

A hundred years ago or so it was not an uncom- 
mon thing to see a young fellow of family and 
fortune, sometimes worthy of better things, who, 
taking more than ordinary pains to degrade him- 
self, became almost as low a character as any of 
those whom he had chosen for his companions. 

An individual of this sort would drink purl in 
the morning, smoke his pipe in a night cellar, dive 
for a dinner, or eat black-puddings at Bartholomew 
Fair, for the humour of the thing. He studied and 
practised all the plebeian arts and exercises under 
the best masters, and disgraced himself with every 
impolite accomplishment. He would often have 
a set-to with various well-known prize-fighters, now 
and then being honoured by receiving a fall from 
the great Mendoza himself Nobody was better 



110 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

known among the stage and hackney coachmen 
as a brother whip. Affecting to imitate in every 
particular the air and manners of the vulgar, a 
spendthrift of this kind learnt how to enrich his 
conversation with their emphatic oaths and expres- 
sive dialect. He also acquired ephemeral fame by 
singing the cant songs drawn up in the barbarous 
dialect of sharpers and pickpockets, the peculiar 
humour of which was supposed to be enhanced by 
screwing up the mouth, and rolling about a large 
quid of tobacco between the jaws. These and 
similar accomplishments soon gained a buck great 
popularity in low society. 

Such follies, however, were less disastrous to 
the pocket than the wild plunging upon sporting 
events which cost so many their fortunes. 

To-day, speculation in the City seems to be the 
favourite method of getting rid of superfluous cash. 
While, of course, respectable business men are 
unwilling to pander to a spendthrift's extravagant 
ideas, there are always many unscrupulous indi- 
viduals who are not so particular. It follows that 
if once a young man catches the fever of stocks 
and shares, unless he is in very good advisory 
hands, he may well be fleeced as surely by these 
sharks as he would have been by an expert 
sharper. 

The indignant Frenchman's definition was not 
so far out. "Ah," said he, " I make von great 
discovery — de raison for your name 'broker.' It 
is because ven a personne have bizziness vid him 
he often become broke." 

Formerly the Turf was the favourite medium 



A SPORTING CAREER 111 

for getting rid of a large fortune. The sums 
which the pleasant and amusing sport of racing 
cost the old English aristocracy are incalculable. 

Nevertheless, until quite recent times, it was 
considered a natural and proper thing for a young 
man inheriting a large fortune immediately to set 
up a stable of horses. 

Perhaps this was merely a sort of unconscious 
form of socialism, everyone more or less realizing 
that a racing career on a large scale would reduce 
most fortunes, however large, to quite a reasonable 
size. 

What is known as a " sporting career " — perhaps 
because it almost invariably puts a good deal of 
cash in all sorts of people's pockets — generally 
engenders great popularity for anyone adopting 
it ; and considerable prestige used to be acquired 
by numberless young fellows with more money 
than brains. 

A conspicuous instance of this was the Marquis 
of Hastings, who died young after a very disastrous 
racing career. 

A critic declared that he had all the recklessness 
of a Buckingham without his wit, all the contempt 
for propriety of a Wharton without his genius, all 
the wonderful power of enduring dissipation in 
which Bolingbroke gloried, without the equally 
wonderful power of application of which he boasted 
less, but by which he profited more. The Marquis 
of Hastings had certainly no great mental endow- 
ments ; quickness he had, and might have made at 
least as good a statesman as other young noblemen 
have turned out, had his energies been properly 



112 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

directed. From boyhood, however, evil influ- 
ences beset him, and he was for ever violating 
etiquette instead of combating prejudices, while 
confusing a noble contempt for conventionalities 
with an ignoble disregard of decency. There was 
a time, before he had reached the height of his 
ambition and regularly "gone upon the Turf," 
when he might have been saved from his own 
worse self. But the temper of the time did not 
permit of such salvation. Read the sporting papers 
of even a quarter of a century ago, and you will 
find frequent eulogistic references to youthful 
owners of race-horses, whose knowledge of the 
Turf is spoken of in terms of almost respectful 
admiration. Brilliant and successful futures were 
generally predicted for them in the years to come. 
Hardly in a single instance was any part of such 
bright forecasts realized. About the most striking 
case of a wealthy young man rushing blindly to 
folly was the meteoric passage of Mr. Ernest Benzon 
— the well-known Jubilee Juggins of 1887 — across 
the horizon of fast London life. Inheriting a 
considerable fortune — some £250,000, which at 
that period was considered more than it is to-day 
— this young man devoted his energies to getting 
rid of it as soon as he could. By assiduously 
indulging in billiards, cards, and racing, he was 
entirely successful in quickly finding himself in 
a very unpleasant financial position. He was a 
good-natured man, who had the great disadvantage 
of having been carelessly brought up. The way 
he was plundered was shocking — not, perhaps, so 
much on the Turf, but at private gambling parties. 



THE JUBILEE JUGGINS 113 

organized for his benefit, or rather his ruin, and 
in biUiard matches for large sums, which he never 
had any chance of winning. 

In the early eighties, before young Benzon had 
come of age, the writer happened to meet him at 
the old Long's Hotel. He was sitting before the 
fire there, holding a small jewel-case in his hand. 
" Pretty things, aren't they ?" said he, showing a 
pair of magnificent links. " I gave five hundred 
for them this morning. Of course I didn't pay. 
I owe £30,000. What do you owe ?" 

He then proceeded to detail various gambling 
experiences, in the vast majority of which he 
seemed to have suffered severely. Nevertheless, 
he was confident that he would come out all right. 

In the earlier part of his career there is no doubt 
that he had considerable belief in his own shrewd- 
ness and judgment. Later on he clung only to 
hope, which, as many come to realize, is generally 
a very slippery hold. 

The poor Jubilee Juggins was his own worst 
enemy ; and it is pleasant to think that, owing to 
his being possessed of a moderate annual income 
which he could not alienate, his life after the sun of 
prosperity had set was not made miserable by acute 
poverty. 

Two almost equally reckless pleasure-seekers of 
about the same era were the Marquis of Ailesbury 
and the late Mr. Abington Baird. 

The former of these two misguided young men 
in all probability was scarcely sane. As a child he 
was brought up among servants and grooms, with 
the result that at an early age he was extremely 

8 



114 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

proficient in the use of bad language. As an Eton 
boy he was insubordinate to a degree, and finally 
had to be taken away altogether, because, after 
being given more than one chance, he resolutely 
declined to be whipped, and swore at the head- 
master when summoned to his presence. Many 
will remember his escapades and his curious costume, 
modelled upon that worn by omnibus-drivers of the 
horse-loving age, which has but recently passed 
away. 

The low life of London, the society of those 
in an inferior grade to his own, and intercourse 
with that portion of the community whose object 
it is to amuse the public by rough eccentricity, had 
attractions for him which were irresistible. His 
fortune, his name, his social surroundings, placed 
him amongst the highest aristocracy ; but in tastes, 
habits, and sympathies Nature marked him out as 
being more in touch with those belonging to the 
lowest class. 

Not infrequently those who can enjoy to the 
fullest extent all that a wealthy and refined civiliza- 
tion has to offer, will be the very men to turn their 
backs upon its charms and go elsewhere. On the 
other hand, the men who have had little oppor- 
tunity for the indulgence of social pleasures — 
either from the intensity of their industry or from 
obstacles that bar their progress in society — are 
always most keen in their pursuit of what wealth 
and rank can lay before them. They see, as it 
were, the golden fruit which folly rejects hanging 
on the tree — red, luscious, and tempting — and with 
outstretched hands and watering mouth long for 



LORD AILESBURY 115 

the moment when they may grasp it and taste its 
sweetness. 

Though good-hearted enough, Lord Ailesbury 
appeared to take a delight in doing everything he 
could to approximate his appearance, language, 
and ways to that of his chosen plebeian associates. 
When scarcely of age he sold what he could of 
the family estates, shortly afterwards parting with 
his life interest in those which he was unable to 
sell. The result was that he died at an early age, 
after for some years subsisting on the charity of 
the great money-lender in whose hands he had been 
almost from the moment he had reached years of 
" indiscretion." 

His great ambition was to be taken for a cab- 
or bus-driver, and he dressed and studied the part 
so persistently that, as a rule, his desire was fully 
realized. 

The rough banter and repartee of the class he 
imitated flowed easily from his lips. 

" I say, Guv'nor, who feeds the pigs when you 
be driving ?" he would shout out to any Jehu who 
incurred his displeasure as he threaded his way 
through the traffic. 

As for his career upon the Turf, it was sad. 
Owing probably to the rascality of some of those 
who preyed upon him, it soon came to an end, 
under circumstances which, had he not been 
absolutely indifferent to the opinion of decent 
people, should have covered him with confusion 
and shame. The most generous judgment which 
can be passed upon this misguided young man is 
that, combined with a naturally weak intellect, his 



116 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

careless upbringing ruined his life. He was a man 
born out of his class, and would have been happier 
had he not inherited wealth with which he was 
hopelessly unfit to deal. 

Mr. Abington Baird, whilst scarcely of such a 
weak character, was also in a great measure the 
victim of circumstances. The son of an austere 
and extremely religious father, he found himself 
while quite a child in possession of riches which 
many of the monarchs of the Middle Ages would 
have envied. 

From his earliest years Mr. Baird was cursed 
with a violent temper, which was not curbed as 
it should have been. As a boy it is said that 
when in a rage he would pull his watch from his 
pocket and grind it to fragments under his heel. 
In after years an exhibition of this same temper 
whilst riding a race once got him into considerable 
trouble. Sane amusement — excepting only racing 
— appealed to him not at all. He has been known 
to get together three or four piano organs in his 
drawing-room, and to have them played one against 
another by their grinders. Any queer whim which 
passed through his mind — owing to his almost 
boundless wealth — he could and would instantly 
gratify. On one occasion, happening to take a 
fancy to a small house in the West End of 
London which had been very attractively decorated, 
he made the owner an offer for it just as it stood. 
The offer, being a good one, was accepted, and the 
owner stepped out of the house. Mr. Baird, left 
in possession, proceeded to finish the evening in 
characteristic fashion with some boon companions. 



AT HOME 117 

In the morning, when he woke up, feeling 
unwell, he could not quite make out where he 
was. 

" Where am I ?" inquired he of one of the 
attendant harpies who appeared bearing a cooling 
morning draught. 

" You're at home, Squire. This is your house ; 
and everything in it is yours," was the reply, which 
recalled the overnight purchase to the new owner's 
rather bemuddled mind. 

Mr. Abington Baird, in spite of every sort of 
extravagance, left a very large sum of money — 
about a million. It is computed that he only 
dissipated two-thirds of his fortune. Had he lived 
longer he would no doubt have got through every 
penny he possessed. 

In his love of costly eccentricities and contempt 
for public opinion, Mr. Baird somewhat resembled 
another rich man of a preceding generation — 
"Mad Windham," of Felbrigg Hall, Norfolk, 
whose wild doings and reckless extravagance 
attracted a good deal of attention a little more 
than fifty years ago. 

Before proceeding to detail some of this gentle- 
man's extravagances, it is only right to point out 
that public opinion regarding rowdiness was then 
in a very lax condition. 

It was an era when, provided people had money 
in their pockets, they could perpetrate all kinds 
of minor outrages with more or less impunity. 

A striking proof of the demoralizing horseplay 
then prevalent was the lawsuit brought in 1855, 
by a farmer at Bedford, against certain officers of 



118 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

a crack regiment, who, returning from the Derby 
on a dray, by pelting the plaintiff with various 
missiles, had so injured one of his eyes that, de- 
claring himself deprived of sight, he claimed £2,000 
damages. The case being eventually settled by 
arbitration, the poor man was awarded £700, the 
names of the officers, it should be added, being 
strictly suppressed. 

Some of the friends of this jovial party about 
the same time played terrible havoc in Windsor. 

Sallying out into the town, they took down 
every sign in the place, including a golden canister, 
a red boot, a barber's pole, a wooden Highlander, 
a huge cocked hat, and a painted sugar-loaf, all of 
which they placed in the balcony of an adjutant's 
house, who was greatly surprised and horrified 
when he saw a crowd of idlers collected in front 
of his domain early the following morning. 

At the local theatre they entirely stopped the 
performance, a particularly mischievous wag strew- 
ing the stage, the chairs and seats, in the trial 
scene of the " Merchant of Venice," with detonat- 
ing balls, which nearly blew the whole Senatorial 
tribunal up into the flies. This caused the greatest 
consternation amongst both actors and audience. 
Very appropriately the afterpiece was " The Devil 
to Pay," and the devil to pay it was, with a 
vengeance ! 

At a local wild-beast show, into which this 
roystering band subsequently strolled, they were 
rather less successful in their sport. 

" That's a very knowing animal of yours," said 
one of them to the keeper of an elephant. 



MAD WINDHAM 119 

" Very," was the cool rejoinder. 

" He performs strange tricks and antics, 1 sup- 
pose ?" looking at the animal through his eye- 
glass. 

" Surprisin' !" retorted the keeper ; " we've 
larned him to put money in that box you see away 
up there. Try him with a suvrin. Captain." 

The gallant officer upon this handed the elephant 
a pound, and sure enough he took it in his trunk 
and placed it in a box high up out of reach. 

" Well, that is very extraordinary — very as- 
tonishing !" said the joker, wiping his glass. " Now 
let's see him take it out and hand it back." 

" He never larnt that trick, sir," retorted the 
keeper, as with a roguish leer he turned away to 
stir up the hyena. 

Into times when doings such as those just 
described were not uncommon came " Mad 
Windham." At twenty-one he was heir to the 
fine properties of Felbrigg and Hanworth — the 
former estate especially remarkable for the glorious 
Jacobean facade of the mansion, surmounted by 
the words Gloria Deo in Excelsis in stone. 

Felbrigg had been the home of the statesman 
William Windham, a splendid Englishman, and 
the darhng of Norfolk. When he lost his life 
through an injury which he received in attempting 
to save a friend's library from fire, the whole 
county grieved. 

He came of a long line of ancestors who had 
succeeded the original owners of the property, 
the noble and gallant De Felbriggs, one of 
whom — standard - bearer to Richard II. — is 



120 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

commemorated by a magnificent brass in the 
church in the park. 

With the death of WilHam Windham, the 
direct Une of the Windhams of Felbrigg may 
be said to have become extinct. The name 
was, however, perpetuated by a connection of 
the statesman, who succeeded to the family 
estates and assumed the highly respected family 
cognomen. 

His son married Lady Sophia Harvey ; the 
sole fruit of the marriage being a boy who from 
his earliest years showed signs of eccentricity 
bordering upon madness. 

The extraordinary and mistaken education 
which he received from his parents no doubt 
rendered his failings more acute. 

Their treatment of this son was highly per- 
nicious, and though they spoilt him he was one 
day punished for doing what he had been told to 
do the day before, and vice ve7^sa, the treatment he 
received varying between capricious kindness and 
uncalled-for severity. The boy's bringing-up, 
indeed, was about the worst conceivable. His 
father had a livery made for him — blue coat, red 
waistcoat, red plush breeches, and dress buttons — 
the Windham livery, which he wore both before 
and after he went to school, and in it he used to 
come into the kitchen to carry up the dishes with 
the other servants, whose airs and manners he 
imitated. After dinner he helped the servants in 
the pantry. This, however, only occurred when 
there were strangers in the house. The boy 
continued working with the servants until the 



LIVERY 121 

death of his father, and wore the Hvery after it 
had become too small for him. The waiting at 
table continued even after the boy had gone to 
Eton. 

His morning amusement in the kitchen con- 
sisted of playing at railways : opening and shutting 
doors, and calling out the names of the stations. 
The servants petted him, and the father used to 
say, " Poor little fellow, let him amuse himself ; 
he has no playfellows." He certainly had no com- 
panions of his own age. 

Under these circumstances it is not extra- 
ordinary that young Windham should have con- 
ceived a great liking for low ways. 

It is natural for an only child, with no brothers 
and sisters, or associates of his own age, with no 
one, indeed, except tutors whom he dislikes, eagerly 
to embrace the opportunity of frequenting the 
society of persons like grooms and stable-boys, 
who are generally highly popular with boys who 
are allowed to frequent the stables as much as they 
please, and ever ready to encourage and humour 
the whims of a young master who is to inherit a 
rich estate. 

At school young Windham was so eccentric in 
his ways that he was already considered mad. He 
liked to mix with low associates, and despised 
ordinary manners. As he grew up it was recog- 
nized that he was impossible in decent society, 
his eccentricities being even more extraordinary 
than those of the notorious Jack Mytton, so well 
known in Shropshire at an earlier period. With 
ladies he was outrageous, delighting to tear their 



122 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

clothes and make faces at them. At Eton he first 
received the nickname of Mad Windham, which 
became so well known in Norfolk. 

With the crowd, though he was always some- 
thing of a laughing-stock, he was fairly popular, 
probably because he was lavish with his money, 
which he sometimes threw about in the streets to 
be scrambled for. 

At the ovation of the Felbrigg tenantry, on 
the occasion of his uncle General Windham's 
return from the Crimea, he was seen on his pony, 
riding at random. He rode into the crowd, and 
as the pony was frightened by the discharge of 
artillery, he got off and tried to draw the pony 
into the crowd after him, through the horses and 
carriages and people. Lord Suffield interfered, 
and took him by the collar and dragged him out. 
At the Norwich Sessions Ball in 1859 he behaved 
very strangely — ^jumped about, walked backwards, 
beckoned to the ladies to come down to him ; he 
trod upon Sir John Boileau's toes, and, instead of 
apologizing, swore, and when somebody afterwards 
trod upon his toes he took up his foot in his hand 
and hopped across the room howling. At the 
subscription ball his behaviour was equally strange. 
He forced his partner through the dances, tore the 
ladies' dresses, and committed other absurdities. 
He did the same at other balls. He laughed on 
these occasions in the strangest manner, being apt 
also to break out into his favourite song of " Old 
Bob Ridley " at the most inopportune times. 

As a young man, amongst his odd fancies were 
dressing himself up like a fireman and smashing 



WILD PRANKS 123 

down doors and partitions with an axe, or imper- 
sonating a railway guard. Attired in uniform, he 
would blow a whistle and wave a flag on railway 
platforms, to which, in those lax days, he obtained 
admission — no doubt, by lavish tipping. On one 
occasion he nearly caused an accident, and at 
others he occasioned great annoyance and confusion 
by playing all sorts of pranks with the passengers' 
luggage. He had a guard's uniform made for him, 
with all its appendages, belt and whistle complete, 
and dressed in this suit he would go to the plat- 
form, take the luggage from the passengers as they 
came out of the ticket-office, put it in the luggage 
van, and then, jumping into a second-class carriage, 
would travel with the train as far as he pleased, 
repeating his performance at every station where a 
stoppage took place. 

His behaviour on the Eastern Counties Line — as 
it was then called — his driving the engine, his acting 
the part of guard or porter, his working as a stoker, 
his blowing a whistle to start the train, thereby 
endangering the lives of hundreds of passengers — 
was utterly inconsistent with soundness of mind, 
and can be attributed only to great mental deficiency. 
So with the acts and doings described by the police- 
men from the Haymarket and its neighbourhood. 
For a considerable period Mr. Windham was in 
the habit of frequenting the Haymarket, where 
the police generally saw^ him in the company of 
strumpets, screeching, singing, howling, dancing, 
and assaulting the people in the street. He was 
ridiculed by the women more than by other young 
roysterers, and the police invariably treated him 



124 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

as a person who could not be held responsible for 
his acts. At Norwich, Yarmouth, and elsewhere, 
he represented himself to be a detective from 
London, and seemed to harbour the delusive idea 
that he actually was in the police force. 

Whilst at Felbrigg Hall he once ran off with a 
mail-cart, pretended to be an officer in the service 
of the Queen, drove furiously into a crowd 
assembled in front of a menagerie of wild beasts, 
wanted to go into the menagerie with horse, cart, 
and all, and wound up by fighting one of the 
showmen, who gave him two black eyes. 

He had then become very military in his ideas, 
and assumed the title of captain, maintained he 
was the greatest man in England, and required 
every person to address him as "Captain Windham." 
The police at Norwich and Yarmouth were obliged 
to comply with that requisition, and even in 
London, among the police and others, he was 
called by no other name than Captain Windham. 

The only real attempt, however, which he made 
to adopt a military career was when he joined the 
Militia. In this role, no doubt on account of being 
kept in order by his brother officers, he appears to 
have behaved fairly well. 

Coming up to London with the reputation of 
vast wealth, and a first-class capacity for getting 
rid of it, he naturally received the warmest welcome 
from all the male and female harpies of the 
Metropolis. 

In the West End, especially about the Hay- 
market, he soon became notorious for his escapades 
and extravagances. 



"ITS ONLY ME'^ 125 

He was very fond of the police, and had a great 
Hking for a particular sergeant, whom he used to 
address as " old fellow," and once seriously invited 
to a champagne dinner. He declared that when 
he came of age he would give a grand treat to the 
whole force. Always very excitable, he was treated 
by them as a schoolboy. At a volunteer dinner at 
^^'^imbledon one July, Mr. Windham got on the 
top of a post near the principal entrance and 
shouted and swore, and uttered other kinds of 
offensive language while ladies were passing in 
their carriages. On another occasion, about ten 
o'clock at night, while a section of police were 
crossing Jermyn Street, Mr. Windham drove up 
in a phaeton in a furious manner, and the men 
were obliged to scatter themselves as quickly as 

possible. He cried : " Damn your eyes ; get 

out of the way, or I will run over you," and kept 
straight on. When he was stopped and asked for 
an explanation of his conduct, he merely said to 
the Inspector : " Oh, it's all right, old fellow ; it's 
only me." 

A curious thing about him was that, though 
constantly mixing with the lowest society, he is 
said not to have been given to excessive drinking. 
Madness, not alcohol, caused his follies. Mean- 
while he was making ducks and drakes of his 
fortune, and, in spite of the efforts made to deter 
him, had made a very undesirable marriage with 
one of the most notorious of the "pretty horse- 
breakers," as they were called — Agnes Willoughby, 
a woman who lived in a villa in St. John's Wood. 

His extravagance soon caused him to be pressed 



126 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

for money, and he then concluded a most disastrous 
contract to sell the timber in Felbrigg Park. 

Meanwhile he had started a coach between 
Norwich and Cromer, upon which he drove pas- 
sengers for nothing. Though he was a good whip, 
the journey was usually rather exciting, for, besides 
being very uncertain in his movements, he some- 
times took it into his head to go to quite other 
places than those named. He drove at a tre- 
mendous speed, screaming to everyone he en- 
countered to get out of his way, and on one 
occasion was known to overturn the coach merely 
for fun. 

At last, in 1861, his uncle, General Windham 
(known as Redan Windham), and other relatives, 
sought to have the wild young squire declared a 
lunatic, so that the control of his estates might be 
taken out of his hands. After a most costly and 
lengthy trial of thirty-four days. Mad Windham 
was declared sane by the jury, and left the court 
amidst the cheers of an admiring crowd, who carried 
him to the cab in which he drove away. 

The money now went faster than ever. A year 
or two later, being declared bankrupt, he found 
himself in such straitened circumstances that he 
accepted a situation as driver of a regular coach — 
the Express. He did not keep his place long, 
however, for he was too wild a driver to give 
general satisfaction. 

He was now in a pitiable position. The low 
characters who had pandered to all his whims 
naturally left him in the lurch when he no longer 
had the ability to provide for his entertainment. 



" GET UP, JOCK ; LET JOHN SIT DOWN " 127 

As the old East Anglian song runs : 

" When Jock's pockets are filled with cash 
Everyone helps him to cut a dash, 
The landlord meets him with a smile, 
Saying, ' Drink, my lad, 'tis worth your while !' 

" Ah ! but when our money's all gone and spent, 
And none to be borrowed and none to be lent, 
In comes the landlord with a frown. 
Saying, ' Get up, Jock ; let John sit down."" 

On a meagre pittance of about a pound a week, 
allowed him by relatives, the erstwhile Squire of 
Felbrigg eked out existence in a Norwich public- 
house ; and there, a few years later, he died. He 
had sold his estate and mansion of Felbrigg to a 
Mr. Kitton of Norwich, a fact which gave rise to 
the saying : 

" Windham has gone to the dogs, 
Felbrigg has gone to the Kittons." 

Shortly afterwards the purchaser of the estate 
changed his name to Ketton, which made people 
call him " Kitton with an eye out." 

Though " JNlad Windham " had been able to sell 
Felbrigg, he had been unable to alienate a consider- 
able amount of landed property, together with the 
fine old mansion of Hanworth Hall. To this 
remnant of Windham's estate, in due course, 
succeeded his son, about whom there had been 
another great lawsuit. It had been contended that 
this son was a substituted child, or, at any rate, 
not the son of his father. 

The attempt to dispossess the child was as 
unsuccessful as the attempt to establish his father's 
insanity, and the verdict seems to have been equally 



128 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

popular amongst the not very clear-thinking Norfolk 
country-folk. Some of these, having largely pro- 
fited by "Mad Windham's" extravagance, were 
inclined to regard General Windham, who had 
naturally and rightly been the chief mover in both 
trials, as a "wicked uncle." 

In due course young Windham came into a fine 
property, for during his long minority what was 
left of the estate had pulled round. He accordingly 
succeeded not only to a large sum of ready-money, 
but to a rent-roll of about ten thousand a year. 

I knew this young man well, and perfectly 
recall his coming of age. At this celebration, 
his mother, the Agnes Willoughby of the sixties, 
made a speech, in which she gave a somewhat 
rambling account of the attempts which had 
been made to deprive her son of his birthright. 
I also remember her fervent declaration that " her 
boy," as she called him, was no substituted child, 
but really Mad Windham's son, and it made a con- 
siderable impression upon my mind. Young Wind- 
ham was a most generous-hearted and good-natured 
youth, nobody's enemy, indeed, but his own. The 
traditions of his father, however, for whose memory 
he had a sort of curious admiration, acted preju- 
dicially upon what was a very weak character. 
One of JNIad Windham's freaks, when he was 
playing ducks and drakes with his fortune in 
London, was to make indiscriminate distributions 
of jewelry to all the undesirable characters he 
could find, and this was one of the ways in 
which his son imitated him. I have seen him 
enter a supper-place, not a thousand yards from 



A CURIOUS PROPHECY 129 

Leicester Square, with a basket filled with trinkets 
of considerable value, which he would proceed to 
present to any attractive female frequenter who 
chanced to please his eye. He gambled wildly, 
with uniform ill- success, and lost huge sums at 
pigeon-shooting. His extravagances in this direc- 
tion may be realized when it is stated that upon 
the day of his coming of age, when the tenantry 
were gathered in Hanworth Park, he lost no less 
than £6,000. Though a very fine shot, he was 
easily put out, and designing persons found him no 
difficult prey. 

He died when quite a young man, and Hanworth 
has now passed into other hands. As has been 
said, it had not been originally part of the Windham 
estate, having only come to that family in the 
lifetime of Mad Windham's father. For genera- 
tions it had belonged to the Doughtys, and an old 
Norfolk prophecy, curiously verified, declared that 
if ever a Windham should acquire Hanworth in 
addition to Felbrigg, ill would befall. 



CHAPTER VI 

PLEASURE-LOVING UNDERGRADUATES 

At the present day it seems strange to connect the 
Universities with men of pleasure, but it is only 
within the last twenty-five years that the system 
of a certam number of wealthy young men going 
up to Oxford or Cambridge merely to pass the 
time before attaining their majority has been 
abandoned. 

Fifty or sixty years ago, and even later, there 
were colleges where it was more or less quite a 
recognized thing for peers and gentlemen -com- 
moners to do pretty much as they pleased, all 
that was asked of them being to avoid creating 
any flagrant scandal. In theory they were, of 
course, liable to be punished for a number of 
breaches of discipline, which, it need hardly be 
said, they were constantly committing ; but in 
practice such punishments affected them but little, 
being mostly of the nature of fines — which, con- 
sidering the large sums of money they spent, made 
not the slightest difference to them. Xot a few 
raced, hunted, and gambled to their hearts' content ; 
drove four-in-hands and tandems, though this was 
quite against the rules ; and made excursions to aU 

130 



UNDERGRADUATES— POOR AND RICH 131 

sorts of forbidden places — a more serious offence 
entailing rustication or expulsion. 

In the early part of the nineteenth century, a 
good many people thought that unless a man was 
well furnished with cash or industry, he had no 
business at the University, and had better be else- 
where. 

A poor man was expected to read and become a 
credit to his College; within certain limits, a rich 
one was allowed to do pretty well as he pleased, it 
being, indeed, more or less tacitly understood that 
not much was to be expected from him. Certain 
Colleges, however, whilst tolerating the presence 
of such idlers, took care to make as much out of 
them as possible, their whole system being appar- 
ently based upon a graduated bleeding of aspirants 
for degrees. At one time it used to be said at 
Christ Church that, according to emolument, the 
cook came in a good first, the butler a fair second, 
and the Dean a bad third, and that he got about 
£6,000 a year. 

A number of the old-fashioned Fellows were also, 
in their own way, men of pleasure. A University 
poet wrote: 

" What class of life, though ne'er so great, 

With a good fat Fellowship can compare ? 
We still dream on at our own rate, 

Without perplexing care ; 
Whilst those of business, when oppress"'d. 
Lie down with thoughts that break their rest, 
And then, then, then, 
Rise to toil and slave again. 
An easier round of life we keep ; 
We eat, we drink, we smoke, we sleep, 
And then, then, then, 
Rise and do the same again.'' 



132 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

Certain Colleges were very particular as to the 
social qualifications of their Fellows. 

A story was current at one College that the 
candidates for Fellowships were all asked to dinner 
and given cherry-pie, that the old Fellows watched 
to see what they did with the stones, and that the 
discreet or ungentlemanly disposal of these super- 
fluities was the real test of fitness ; examinations in 
classic authors being gabbled through merely for 
form's sake. 

Those were the days when on special occasions 
noblemen wore gorgeous blue and gold gowns, to- 
gether with the gold tassels to their caps which orig- 
inated the expressions "tufts" and "tuft-hunting." 

The next most shining men were the Fellow- 
Commoners, who wore gowns trimmed with gold 
or silver lace, velvet caps or top hats. 

The abolition of these gorgeous costumes in the 
middle of the last century was a concession to that 
levelling spirit which has in modern times destroyed 
so much that was picturesque. It seems a pity 
that such ornamental relics of other days should 
have been suppressed. The wearing of such gowns 
might at least have been made optional, there being 
no possible harm in an undergraduate appearing in 
elaborate old-world attire provided his parents are 
able and willing to pay for it. 

Peers and Fellow-Commoners formerly enjoyed a 
number of other privileges. They could, if they 
liked, crack their bottle — or their joke, if they had 
one — in the Common Parlour or Combination 
Room, with the Dons, with whom in old days 
they were often hail-fellow well met. 



INVIDIOUS DISTINCTIONS 133 

For this and other reasons sometimes not very 
creditable to the authorities, who were often too 
lenient towards men of rank, which was then apt 
to arouse the same adulation as wealth does now, 
the gold- and silver-tasselled members indulged in 
many escapades with far more immunity from 
punishment than ordinary undergraduates. 

Most of them troubled little about reading, but 
passed most of the day in strenuous idleness in the 
open air. 

Convivial dinners, wines, and sometimes gambling, 
came with the evening. 

Many pleasure - loving undergraduates never 
troubled to go up for any examination at all ; 
others did so, with disconcerting results. Some 
of the answers they gave were very quaint. 

A sporting undergraduate, being under examina- 
tion in the schools, was asked to point out " which 
were the greater and which were the lesser prophets." 
This was rather a knock-down blow to a student 
unversed in theology ; but, pulling himself to- 
gether, he recovered his self-possession, and 
answered, with the most cucumberish and ice- 
bergish nonchalance : "I never like to make 
invidious distinctions." 

Another dashing young fellow who had spent a 
little of his own time and a good deal of his father's 
money in preparing for the Bar, was asked after his 
examination how he got along. " Oh well," said 
he, *' I answered one question right." " Ah, indeed!" 
said the old gentleman, with looks of satisfaction at 
his son's peculiar smartness. " And what was 
that?" "They asked me what a qui lam action 



134 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

was." " That was a hard one ! And you answered 
it correctly, did you ?" " Yes. I told them I did 
not know." 

A gentleman once introduced his son to Rowland 
Hill, by a letter, as a youth of great promise, and 
likely to do honour to the University of which he 
was a member; "but he is shy," added the father, 
" and, I fear, buries his talent in a napkin." A 
short time afterwards the parent, anxious for his 
opinion, inquired what he thought of his son. " I 
have shaken the napkin," said Rowland, " at all the 
corners, and there is nothing in it." 

Even clever undergraduates who belonged to a 
fast set were apt to despise reading for examinations, 
to get through which they trusted to luck. Some 
of them, who had come up to the University 
merely to pass away time, never tried for a degree 
at all, while others submitted themselves for ex- 
amination merely with the idea of being facetious 
at some Don's expense. 

At an examination for a medical degree a candi- 
date was asked by the examiner, "What would you 
do if a man was blown up with powder ?" " Wait 
until he came down !" he coolly replied. " True," 
replied the Don ; " and suppose I should kick 
you for such an impertinent reply, what muscles 
should I put in motion ?" " The flexors and 
extensors of my arms ; for I would knock you 
down immediately !" He received a diploma. 

This candidate fared better than the young fellow 
who, returning home, had to admit to his father 
that he had failed in everything. " Go, sir," said 
the angry parent — "go up to your room, lock 



PONTIUS PILATES 135 

yourself in, and bring me the key ; I don't want to 
see your face again." 

In past days the discipline at many Colleges, 
especially those popular with riding men, was any- 
thing but severe. 

Dining in Hall could generally be avoided, 
though the price of the dinner had to be paid. 
Attendance at chapel could be reduced to a 
minimum, and even such services as an under- 
graduate could not avoid attending were generally 
gabbled through at a great rate. 

At one time, in consequence of a Joe Miller 
story of a fast-reading Curate saying he would give 
his drawling Rector as far as Pontius Pilate in the 
Creed and beat him, all very quick-reading Chap- 
lains at either University were given the nickname 
of " Pontius Pilates." 

Lectures with a little diplomacy could be avoided 
altogether. The excuse of private reading was 
accepted without much demur. In fact, at the 
beginning of the nineteenth century, a smart 
young Cantab's idea of University life was to give 
" gaudies " and spreads, keep a horse or two, go to 
Newmarket, attend the Six-mile Bottom, drive a 
drag, wear " varmint " clothes and well-built coats, 
show his appreciation of the Cyprians of Barnwell 
and New Zealand, be a staunch admirer of the 
bottle, and care a damn for no man. "At lucre or 
renown let others aim," for a spark of this sort 
despised scholarships, and looked down upon and 
never dreamt of becoming a Fellow ; and as for 
taking honours, it was about the very last idea 
that could enter his head. \^^hat cared he for 



136 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

Tutors or Proctors, for Masters or Vice-Chancellors, 
since his whole aim was pleasure and amusement ; 
since a day's hard reading would drive him half mad 
or give him the blue devils ; since subordination is a 
word of the meaning of which he professed to be 
ignorant ; and since rows and sprees were the 
delight of his soul. He was never seen in 
Academicals till Hall time, or towards evening, and 
then only put them on for " decency's sake," or 
because it was the custom throughout the "Varsity." 
But in the day he was seen in a Jarvey tile, or a 
low-crowned-broad-brim, a pair of white swell tops, 
" varmint " inexpressibles, a regular flash waistcoat, 
and his coat of a nameless cut ; his cloth of the 
most uncommon pattern and tied after his own 
way, and a short crook-stick or bit o' plant in his 
hand ; and thus he went out riding : or he might 
dress differently, and lounge through the streets, 
always in company with a friend or two, visiting 
saddlers, milliners, barbers, bootmakers, and tailors ; 
or looking in at a friend's rooms, to arrange 
matters for the day ; or in the summer term, if fine, 
he might make up a water party, and go down 
the Cam in a six-oar, dine abroad at Ditton, 
or take a snack at Chesterton, and return in the 
evening ; or he might walk out to Chesterton to 
play at billiards, and return plus or minus the sum 
he started with; or he might drive out in a buggy, 
or do fifty other things, and enter into fifty other 
schemes, all productive of amusement. 

In the days when pugilism was at the height of 
its glory many undergraduates prided themselves 
upon their fistic prowess, and presumed upon their 



DOCTOR CALDWELL 137 

ability to knock down anyone they came across. 
Such men looked with contempt upon the Dons, 
most of whom they considered as poor weak 
creatures. This estimate, however, was not always 
a correct one. One Don, who was told by an angry 
and reckless undergraduate that his gown was his 
protection, replying, " It may be mine, but it shall 
not be yours," pulled it off*, and gave the young 
fellow a sound thrashing. 

Some of the Dons, indeed, were tough customers 
to tackle, even with fists. Such a one was old 
Doctor Caldwell, a small lean man, but as hard and 
angular as the most irregular of pine-knots. He 
looked as if he might be tough, but he did not 
seem strong. Nevertheless, among the knowing 
ones, he was reputed to be as agile as a cat ; 
and, in addition, was by no means deficient in 
knowledge of the " noble science of self-defence." 
Besides, he was as cool as a cucumber. Amongst 
the freshmen of a certain year, one individual, a 
youth of eighteen or nineteen, besides being very 
strong, was something of a boxer and a good deal 
of a bully. This genius conceived a great contempt 
for old Caldwell's physical dimensions, and his soul 
was horrified that one so deficient in muscle should 
be so potential in his rule. 

The freshman was not inclined to knock under 
and be controlled despotically by a man that he 
imagined he could tie and whip. He at length 
determined to give the gentleman a genteel private 
thrashing some night in the College, pretendmg to 
mistake him for some fellow-student. Shortly 
after, on a dark and rainy night, the young fellow 



138 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

met the doctor crossing the yard. Walking up to 
him abruptly — 

" Hello, Smith ! you rascal — is that you ?" 

And with that he struck the old gentleman a 
blow on the side of the face that nearly felled him. 
Old Caldwell said nothing, but squared himself, 
and at it they went. The young fellow's youth, 
weight, and muscle made him " an ugly customer," 
but after a round or two the doctor's science began 
to tell, and in a short time he had knocked his 
beefy antagonist down, and was a-straddle on his 
chest, with one hand on his throat, and the other 
dealing vigorous cuffs on the side of his head. 

•* Ah ! stop ! I beg pardon, doctor ! Dr. Caldwell 
— ^a mistake — for Heaven's sake, doctor !" groaned 
the young fellow, who thought he was about to 
be eaten up. "I — I really thought it was 
Smith !" 

The doctor replied with a word and a blow 
alternately — "It makes no difference; for all present 
purposes, consider me Smith I" 

And it is said that old Caldwell gave the young 
fellow such a pounding, then and there, as probably 
prevented his ever making another mistake as to 
personal identity. 

Many undergraduates were very cheeky with 
the Dons. A conspicuous instance is said to have 
been Surtees, author of the " Handley Cross" series, 
of volumes — which have delighted several genera- 
tions of sportsmen. 

When at College he was waiting on a Dean on 
business, and feeling coldish, stirred the fire. *' Pray, 
Mr. Surtees," said the great man, " do you think 



A CRUEL HOAX 139 

that any other undergraduate in the College would 
have taken that liberty ?" 

" Yes, Mr. Dean," was the reply, " anyone as 
cool as I am." 

Practical jokes have always been popular with 
youth, and a hundred years ago, when people were 
not very particular as to other folks' feelings as long 
as amusement was to be obtained, all sorts of 
hoaxes, some of which would now be deemed 
brutal, were played. 

About the most cruel and stupid of these was 
the one which produced a ludicrous scene in 1807 
at Steven's Hotel, Bond Street. Some wag sent a 
letter to every schoolmaster within ten miles of 
London, inviting an interview on a certain day, 
between two and three o'clock, as " business " 
rendered every other day inconvenient. Each letter 
complimented the conductor of the " seminary," 
and informed him that the writer of the letter 
proposed placing his two nephews from Bengal 
under his care. Most of the D.D.'s, M.A.'s, and 
eminent professors of the birch, who had been 
addressed by William Herbert, Esq. (the assumed 
name of the author), were punctual in their attend- 
ance. The room into which they were at first 
shown was soon found unable to contain them, and 
a larger had to be used. No Mr. Herbert making 
his appearance, explanations ensued ; his letters 
were compared, and found quite uniform in their 
orthography ; with the result that the crowd of 
pedagogues, between sixty and seventy in number, 
broke up very depressed and annoyed. Many 
other sciioolmasters , less punctual, made their 



140 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

appearance in the afternoon, during which they 
kept pestering the waiters with inquiries for Mr. 
Herbert. The author of the hoax, it should be 
added, was never found. 

In more modern times a far more legitimate 
joke was played on a certain celebrated conjurer 
who, during his provincial tours, used to visit the 
Universities. 

One of his tricks never failed to mystify an 
audience. This consisted in producing on the stage 
a watch of somewhat peculiar make, which he 
handed round in order that its salient characteristics 
might be recognized. He would then announce 
his intention of passing it into the pocket of some 
obviously bond fide member of the audience, in 
whose possession, much to his own and everyone 
else's astonishment, it would in due course be 
found. The way in which this trick was performed 
was very ingenious — the man at the turnstile where 
the tickets were given up slipping a watch, in every 
particular resembling the one shown by the conjurer, 
into the pocket of anyone he might select, whose 
seat could, of course, be afterwards identified by 
the number of the ticket, which was made known 
to the conjurer. A certain undergraduate by 
some means or other got to know the secret of the 
trick, and after one or two visits to the entertain- 
ment, having contrived to get the watch put in his 
pocket, whilst entering the building quietly trans- 
ferred it into the pocket of someone in the crowd, 
on whom he kept his eyes till he had noted the 
exact position of his seat. In consequence of this 
manoeuvre, when the conjurer announced that the 



PRACTICAL JOKES 141 

watch would be found in the undergraduate's 
pocket, the latter created a sensation by waving 
his hand in the air and saying, " I passed it into the 
right-hand pocket of that gentleman over there," 
and in that pocket, of course, it was found. No 
one was more mystified by this than the conjurer 
himself, who, of course, could not conceive what 
means had been employed to effect such an amazing 
transfer. 

Practical jokes involving damage to College 
buildings were at one time not unusual at the 
Universities, it being a favourite pastime of under- 
graduates to bedaub or remove statuary when they 
could get at it. 

Byron is said to have executed a daring exploit 
in this line. The roof of the library of Trinity 
College is surmounted by three figures in stone, 
representing Faith, Hope, and Charity. These 
figures are accessible only from a window of a 
particular room in Neville's Court, which happened 
to be occupied by the poet. To reach them, after 
getting out of this window, anyone had to climb a 
perpendicular wall, sustaining himself by a frail 
leaden spout. He had then to traverse the sloping 
roof of a long range of buildings, by movmg care- 
fully on his hands and knees, at the imminent risk 
of being precipitated fifty feet into the court 
beneath. When the library was gained, a stone 
parapet had to be crossed — altogether a very dan- 
gerous performance indeed. Byron, however, duly 
performed the feat one Sunday morning, while the 
heads of the Dons and dignitaries were yet buried 
in their pillows. Before setting out he had 



142 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

abstracted three surplices from the College chapel, 
which he bore with him in his dangerous progress. 
When the bell at eight o'clock rang out its deep-toned 
summons to the usual morning devotions, and the 
Fellows and undergraduates were hurrying on their 
way to the chapel, they were startled to behold 
Faith, Hope, and Charity clad in surplices which 
reached in snowy folds to their feet, while their 
heads were surmounted, helmet-wise, with bed- 
chamber water-ewers. An inquiry was instituted 
by the indignant College authorities, but it resulted 
in nothing. A few select friends knew the truth, 
and the rest of the College guessed who the author 
of the outrage was ; nevertheless, it was never 
brought home to him. 

Extravagance was rife amongst the faster class 
of undergraduates, and if anyone of these went 
down without having contracted a large amount 
of debts, it was considered quite extraordinary. 
The result of all this was often not at all profitable 
to those who seemed always ready to give these 
young men credit ; indeed, at one time it was 
wittily said of any University tradesman who had 
grown rich by trusting undergraduates, " his faith 
hath made him whole." 

The majority of these young men really meant to 
pay their debts, but a considerable number had no 
very clear idea as to how it would be done ; yet 
another section lived almost entirely upon hopes of 
something turning up in the future. 

A lady was descanting on the virtues of her son, 
a young gentleman given to backing horses and 
bills, who had uttered many promissory notes, 



PROMISING LADS 143 

to the small benefit of creditors. " Don't you 
think, my dear sir," she said, addressing a friend 
who had suffered through this pleasing trait in his 
character, " that he is a very promising young 
man ?" " Very promising, my lady, but — he never 
pays." 

Sons of vi^ell-to-do fathers often presumed a great 
deal upon their fathers' good-nature. Such a one 
was Sir James Graham's son, a tall, handsome boy, 
who very soon distanced in appearance, as in height, 
his father, who was known as the little Sir James. 
A friend once ventured to say to the little Baronet, 
speaking of his son, " The lad is full of life's good 
looks and talent ; and as for height, he might put 
you in his pocket." 

" You are quite mistaken, my dear sir," was the 
reply, " for I can assure you he is never out of 
mine." 

Some young fellows were very ingenious in 
avoiding rows with their parents and guardians on 
this score. One dashing young man contrived a 
most ingenious plan for escaping censure after his 
extravagances had been reported to a relative, who 
came down to give him a lecture. It was the 
occasion of a public market, and an old woman 
chanced to be offering for sale a quantity of china 
and stoneware immediately in front of the under- 
gi-aduate's rooms. The latter, having ascertained 
from the woman the value of her stock of goods, 
promised to pay the price demanded, on the con- 
dition that she would break in pieces every article 
of her ware when he should make an exclamation 
from the adjoining window. " You have, I fear. 



144 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

been hearing many stories about me, uncle," said 
he, when his guardian arrived, "but you must not 
beheve them. The pubUc have conspired both 
against my character and my pocket — so much so 
that I can hardly look out of the window, but I am 
accused of something or other. I do believe," he 
proceeded, going to the window, " that were I to 
look out now, and call ' Halloo !' some of those 
people outside would set about destroying their 
goods, and then present a claim against us for the 
price." " Nonsense," said his relative ; " I'll bet 
fifty pounds that no such thing will happen." 
" Done !" said the young fellow, who forthwith 
opened the window, and shouted lustily. In an 
instant the female vendor of china and earthenware 
overthrew her little platform and its contents, 
dashed her ware upon the ground, gave pursuit to 
such articles as rolled to a distance, and begged the 
crowd to assist her to gratify the wishes of the 
eccentric gentleman up above. In the course of a 
few minutes the woman appeared and demanded 
payment for her goods. The guardian, completely 
confounded, proceeded to suggest a variety of 
expedients for his nephew's protection against the 
impositions of an unscrupulous public, and paid a 
number of debts without a murmur. 

Entertaining the fair sex was, of course, strictly 
forbidden ; nevertheless, in old days many a frail 
charmer was smuggled into rooms, and even into 
College itself, as is shown by a quaint design of 
Rowlandson's representing a coquettish-looking 
damsel being hauled up by a rope to join a party 
of roystering undergraduates in a room above. 



AN ATHANASIAN DAMSEL 145 

Though hable to be arrested and punished, 
" Cyprians " were not unknown at both Oxford and 
Cambridge. 

The remark of Dr. Glyn, who met one of these 
ladies, and got into conversation with her in one 
of the pubHc walks at the latter place, was very 
apt. On leaving her, he inquired of a friend who 
had noticed him who she was. '* A lady of a sus- 
picious character," was the reply. " I fancied," said 
the Doctor, " there was something Athanasian in 
her looks." " How so ?" "She seemed to be a 
Qidcunque vult.'' 

The turf, the road, and the hunting-field were 
then highly popular with a considerable section of 
undergraduates at both Universities, the result 
being that the livery-stable keepers at Oxford and 
Cambridge did a roaring trade. IMany of these 
men were characters in their way, and the most 
celebrated of all, the famous Hobson of Cambridge, 
originated the phrase which is so well known 
wherever the English language is spoken, " Hob- 
son's choice." Few know the origin of the saying. 
The tradition is, that the worthy projector of the 
Conduit was also the first man who let out hack- 
horses to the Cambridge students, furnishing them 
at the same time with whips and boots. His way 
of conducting business was rather novel : the horse 
whose turn it was to go out always stood nearest 
to the stable-door, having been shifted from stall 
to stall until it occupied that position. So soon, 
then, as a customer entered, there appeared before 
him, "Hobson's choice — that or none !" Thus even 
to dumb animals did the old horse-dealer evince the 

10 



146 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

same benevolence which he so bountifully exercised 
towards his fellow -men. 

Another celebrated Cambridge horse-dealer of 
the past was Fordham. During a negotiation be- 
tween him and an under-graduate for the purchase 
of a horse he was taken dangerously ill. There 
were only a few pounds between them in the deal; 
and the would-be purchaser, little thinking what 
had happened in the meantime, called the next day 
but one, and asked for Mr. Fordham. " Master is 
dead, sir," said one of his stable-boys, " but he left 
word you should have the horse." 

The Cantabs of the past were very fond of the 
road. Not a few were excellent whips, who drove 
the "Tally-Ho" or the famous "Telegraph" just 
as well as a professional coachman. 

In 1809, emulous of the honours gained by the 
whips of the Metropolis, some junior students 
formed themselves into what they called a "four-in- 
hand club," secretly embodied, and, therefore, not 
easy of public detection. Proctors were, however, 
on the lookout. One of these busy guardians 
of decorum at length detected a staunch member 
of the four-in-hand, whom, nolens volens, he laid 
instant hold of, and led, dire to tell, through 
the High Street to the house of durance vile 1 
So dexterously had this young whip disguised 
himself, that it was with difficulty his Proctor 
could recognize him. Vainly did he beg for mercy. 
Oaths and bribes, asseverations of non-identity or 
promises of compensation, were all made in vain. 
Found as a whip, he was kept as a whip ; so that 
his fate bore some resemblance to that of the 



TOOLING THE MAIL 147 

foreign Bishop, who, being taken in battle by an 
ancient monarch, and the Pope having besought 
the King to set his son free, as, in capturing him, 
he had violated the privileges of the Church — " See 
now," wrote the King, " if this be the coat of a son 
of thine !" sending to the Pontiff at the same time 
the armour in which the Bishop was taken. 

Great indignation prevailed amongst the sporting 
men of the University at the treatment of their 
youthful jehu. His cause was now made the 
cause of all the whips. " Coachee " stuck by the 
side of "coachee"; and, as a result, the club of 
whips, who were so brave as to show (by their 
hissing the Proctor when he appeared in public 
next day) their detestation of discipline, were 
expelled from their College. 

Tooling the mail was an amusement which, for 
some of those able to indulge in it, seemed the very 
summit of happiness. Not a few undergraduates 
were out-and-out whips ; could drive to a hair 
round a corner, cut a fly off the ear of the near 
leader in the best style, well fiddle the wheelers, 
while (in their opinion, better than all) they also had 
the true cut and genuine slang of the real jarvey. 
" AVhat," wrote an old Oxford man, " could equal 
the delight of opening the coach-door, and receiving 
the shillings of the sulky and deluded passengers 
as you announced to them your intention to go no 
farther ? To enjoy this gratification we would pay 
anything — it could not be bought too dear ; " for 
the honour of being mistaken for the jarvey was 
exquisite and enviable to a degree. 

In the earlier part of the last century a large 



148 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

number of Oxonians were habitual followers of 
hounds. 

Deakin's, near Bicester, was then one of their 
great resorts. Lots of the freshmen thought it 
correct to breakfast there previous to hunting — 
young sportsmen, keen as their own spurs, many 
with their scarlet yet innocent of mud. Their 
anxiety was the greatest treat possible, and led to 
the most ludicrous mistakes. The fear of being 
too late made each youngster literally bolt his 
champagne and kidneys, and rush to the window 
at the sound of a horse's hoof. The waiter was 
incessantly despatched to see if any Nimrod in 
whom they had faith had passed by ; and, when at 
last they had quite decided to start, the scene in 
the courtyard was a perfect comedy. Almost all 
on hired hacks — which, perhaps, they had never seen 
before — how could they recognize the individuality 
of their quadrupeds ? "You sir, is that my horse ?" 
" Your OSS ?" answered the cock-eyed ostler. " No, 
sur ; that bees Mr. Sheard's oss." " D — n you, I 
didn't want you to tell me that ! Is it the chestnut 
Sheard sent on for me ?" " Can't say, sur," answers 
the cock-eyed, to whom the youngster's face, as 
a fi'esh arrival rattled along the street, was a study ; 
" Sheard sended on three chestnuts." " Mine was 
a chestnut mare." " Ise two chestnut mares," 
replied the imperturbable. " A short-tailed un, 
is it, sur ?" " I'll tell you, yer vership, as you looks 
so werry like a real gentleman, the short-tail'd un 
is the one to go !" a confederate would whisper with 
a wink. Of course, the adviser received half-a- 
crown caution-money. " Yes, it's the short- tailed 



A LITTLE MELTON 149 

one I mean. Bring her out ; make haste ! We're 
late as it is." " 'Rectly, sur, 'rectly," said the lad 
with a knowing cock of his swivel-eye to the old 
hands. " Holloa ! Jim, bring out kicking Jane for 
Mr. Har-buf-not !" Naturally poor Mr. Arbuthnot, 
ashamed to own that it was the long-tail he had 
hired, had his first day on her restive ladyship, from 
fear of being too late ; and, to the great delight 
of his friends, came a cropper just as the bang- tail 
cleared a gate in first-rate style. 

Oxford was then full of riding men. It was 
a fine sight out with the Bicester to see some 
hundred and fifty "pinks," whose age could not 
average twenty, simultaneously, like cavalry, 
charge almost in line a stone wall five and a half 
feet high, and then top a flight of ox-rails with 
a double ditch, without one craning. Will, the 
huntsman, could not help saying: " Dang them 
young uns, how they do go it !" 

In the winter of 1816-17, Christ Church was 
quite a little Melton in its way— no bad nursery 
for the latter place, having supplied Leicestershire 
with some of its best riders. The two rival clubs — 
Loder's in High Street, and Venables', close to 
Tom Gate (the White's and Boodle's of the Oxford 
of that day)— were tlien in all their glory. The 
former, though chiefly a literary society, a mixture 
of wits and fine gentlemen, contained some brilliant 
performers across country. At the head of these 
stood Lord Brudenell and the Marquis of Titchfield, 
with a few others who were zealous fox-hunters. 
The Venables' men were all sportsmen, thorough- 
going fellows who, when the day was over, fought 



150 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

their hunting battles o'er again, not with thin 
potations, but over a bottle or two of plain, honest 
port. Among their leaders, whether in the College 
or the field, were Lords Molineux and Harborough, 
Sir Harry Goodriche, Messrs. W. Miles, Foley, 
Bower, and others afterwards celebrated as sports- 
men. These kept plenty of the best sort of hunters, 
and seldom hunted less than four days a week. 
After they had gone down, the keepers of the 
livery-stables used to lament over the sad falling- 
off, almost with tears in their eyes. The Venables 
kept the true sporting spirit alive. About this 
time Loder's fell into a bad state, and some 
exclusive members having blackballed a popular 
fellow, and tlie only six or eight who were worth a 
straw in comparison having taken their names off 
in a body, the celebrated club fell into gradual 
disrepute. Many of the members were glad to be 
admitted as humble guests into the rooms of the 
very men whom they had at first refused to asso- 
ciate with. A gallant Captain in the Life Guards, 
an old Westminster boy, on being much pressed to 
join these tea-drinking tittle-tattlers, excused him- 
self; but begged in return — to mark his sense of 
gratitude for their unwonted civility — they would 
accept a set of baby teacups and saucers, which 
he ordered from a toyshop, and which were actually 
sent upstairs, amid the shouts of a large party 
standing under the window to know the result of a 
ballot going on above. 

In 1825 there was a row in Christ Church about 
the members of that College wearing red hunting- 



FOX 151 

coats, which, it appeared, were obnoxious to the 
Dean. 

Some members of the College, who amused 
themselves with the gentleman-like exercise of fox- 
hunting, thinking it hard to be denied the harmless 
gratification of appearing clad like the rest of their 
brother-sportsmen in the field — namely, in scarlet 
hunting-coats, which the Dean had objected to 
their appearing in — purchased a quantity of scarlet 
paint, and painted every door in the quadrangle 
red. Some pains were taken to find out the vendor 
of the scarlet paint, as well as the perpetrators 
of the bloody deed, but, to the disgust of the 
authorities, all inquiries were in vain. Never- 
theless, the affair led to the rustication of a 
popular undergraduate of lively disposition. 

At that time Oxford was full of queer indi- 
viduals, one of whom was old Fox, the waiter at 
the Star Inn. 

This worthy had a great talent for mimicry, and 
possessed a collection of comic songs. He had 
been a good-looking man in his time, of which he 
often took care to remind people ; and to those 
who would give ear to him, and were not hard of 
belief, he would relate some extraordinary but 
most amusing histories of amours he had been 
engaged in in his early years at the several inns 
at which he acted as waiter. He was, never- 
theless, a most respectable-looking man, and an 
honest, good servant ; but his days were shortened 
by his fi-equent devotion to the jolly god. 

Fox was a very cool hand, but the manner in 
which he spoke and acted quite disarmed rebuke. 



152 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

A youthful freshman, asking him in rather an 
imperious tone whether he was sure the bottle of 
champagne he was uncorking was a good one, 
" Why, no, sir," said he ; " I am sure of nothing I 
never saw nor tasted ; but " (filling a bumper and 
drinking it off) " novo, sir, / am sure a better glass 
of champagne never slipt over a gentleman- 
commoner's tongue." 

Towards the middle of the last century discipline 
both at Oxford and Cambridge greatly increased in 
severity, and a much more severe attitude was 
adopted towards young men of pleasure. In some 
ways this did good ; in others, harm. 

During the whole of Dr. Kaye's Vice-Chancellor- 
ship (which terminated at the latter end of the 
year 1816), Cambridge was as tranquil and in as 
good a state of discipline and morals as could 
possibly be expected, when one considers the 
number of undergraduates residing at that Uni- 
versity. Dr. Kaye was particularly remarkable for 
the mildness of his government, where mildness is 
beneficial— that is, he did not interfere with the 
harmless pursuits and amusements of the under- 
graduates. To him succeeded Dr. Wood, the 
Master of St. John's College. Besides a strong pre- 
possession in favour of severity, three things pecu- 
Harly marked this gentleman's ^'^ice-Chancellorship : 
(1) Tandems were forbidden to be driven; (2) a 
University Debating Society, called the Union 
Society, was suppressed ; (3) rules and regulations 
were drawn up under his direction, by which the 
Fitzwilliam Museum was virtually closed to under- 
graduates. 



GAMBLING 153 

Then and after, restrictions are said to have 
greatly conduced towards the increase of gambling. 

Many things which were formerly winked at 
were suppressed, and to-day there is no College 
where a man is allowed to be frankly idle. At both 
Universities regulations have been made far more 
rigorous, whilst no effort is spared to suppress evils 
such as gambling, a vice which during the last 
eighty years has, at intermittent periods, been very 
apt to flourish amongst undergraduates — it would 
seem to have taken the place of the heavy drinking 
which was so popular in old days. 

The authorities, once so lax, are now, however, 
very alert about suppressing the roulette which has 
always been a favourite Varsity game. 

A few years ago, however, during a raid they met 
their match. A number of undergraduates being 
discovered grouped around the green cloth, were 
informed that immediate expulsion, or at best 
rustication, would be their fate. Amongst the 
gamblers, however, was a youth who very adroitly 
contrived to save himself and fellow-gamblers from 
such a fate. 

The undergraduate in question could wield a 
very trenchant and effective pen, any production 
of which, as was well known in his College, would 
be eagerly welcomed by most editors of news- 
papers. 

Conscious of the power which his talents in this 
direction gave him, he was quite unabashed before 
the ii'e of the authorities. 

" If you choose," said he, addressing the leading 
Don, " to act so severely because we have been 



154 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

playing an innocent little game, I had better warn 
you that you will do so at the peril of the College 
reputation. Writing articles in the newspapers, as 
you probably know, is easy work for me ; and I 
solemnly assure you that if you decide to send us 
down, within three days some astounding revelations 
of gambling at this University, with reflections 
upon the laxity displayed in its suppression at a 
certain College, wall appear in one of the most 
widely-read sheets in the world. You can now 
decide whether you care to overlook the w^hole of 
this regrettable affair or not." The Dons, very 
much alarmed at the prospect of figuring in a 
newspaper scandal, gave way, and all the culprits 
escaped without punishment. 



CHAPTER VI I 

DANCING-PLACES, MUSIC-HALLS, AND THE 
OLD GAIETY 

A HUNDRED years ago and later, Englishmen, 
highly tenacious of their rights, would not allow 
their personal liberty to be tampered with by prigs 
or faddists. The triumph of the latter, indeed, 
only dates from the early seventies of the last 
century, when the passing of the Early Closing 
Act sealed the fate of such places as Cremorne 
Gardens and the Argyll Rooms. 

Cremorne somewhat resembled the Jardin de 
Paris, and, though the dancing was quite decorous, 
in a measure relied for its existence upon the 
patronage of the same class of ladies as fill the 
Parisian resort to-day. For this reason, the 
fanatics who do not recognize that the frail sister- 
hood, even if they behave, have as good a right 
to frequent places of entertainment as anyone else, 
did all they could to get the Gardens closed. Its 
frequenters were branded as wicked and dissolute 
folk ; and when in the late sixties a Society fete 
(from which, of course, its usual mixed clientele was 
rigorously excluded) took place, a great outcry arose. 

In poetry as well as prose the fashionable world 
was very severely handled : 

155 



156 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

" Come, fours-in-hand, who think it grand to have your 

doubtful load 
Stared at by Sunday Greenwichers all down the Old Kent 

Road !" 
Come all, in fact, of Fashion's swarm, who clutch at such 

small straws 
To save you from those swamps of bore your wearied 

notions cause ! 

" Come, blasees belles and stupid swells, there will be such a 

lark, 
Much better than your daily dreary dawdle round the 

Park! 
Come, prancers who at Almack's whirl — come, younger 

ones forlorn ! 
Come, see the Traviatas' haunt — come, see the famed 

Cremorne I" 

As a matter of fact, the fete in question, which 
had perhaps better not have taken place, was a 
failure. It merely served to turn public attention 
to Cremorne, and hastened the closing of this 
pleasant open-air evening lounge for jaded Lon- 
doners. No good end was served by the refusal of 
its licence ; morality was not in the least degree 
improved. The closing of the Gardens merely 
pleased unreasoning Puritans, and left London no 
better than it was before. 

Cremorne was occasionally the scene of a good 
deal of light-hearted disorder, for as late as the early 
seventies the old " Tom and Jerry " spirit was 
not extinct. At that time men drank a good 
deal on festive occasions, and little, if any, discredit 
attached to a young man of position who foimd 
himself in custody as participant in a row in some 
place of public resort. Even the staidest of matrons 
and the demurest of misses, while outwardly pro- 
fessing to regard the conduct of their well-born 



DERBY NIGHT 157 

friends and relatives as shockingly reprehensible, did 
not fail in the innermost recesses of their minds to 
applaud it as evidence of a manly spirit. 

The spirit of that age was rougher than that which 
prevails to-day. 

Derby night, though there is sometimes a little 
excitement in certain music-halls, is now not very 
different from other evenings ; but in the palmy 
days of Cremorne it was the occasion for outbursts 
of high spirits and horseplay. On that evening the 
attractions were always enhanced, and the attend- 
ance was far in excess of the ordinary. Lovers 
of excitement got full value for their money. The 
" swells," as they were called, after dinhig and 
celebrating their gains, or (with more liberality than 
discretion) droM-ning the memory of their losses at 
Epsom, drove comfortably down late in the evening 
to finish up their crowded day with what they 
called a " lark." 

On such a night a slight disturbance would con- 
vert the gardens into a sort of battle-field. People 
of peaceful and law-abiding disposition would then 
hasten to get away and leave the place in possession 
of the jeunessc doree, who, banded together by 
force of mutual sympathy, carried all before them. 
A good deal of destruction ensued. Many lamps 
were smashed and tables overturned, and the ware 
with which the latter were covered was throMai about 
or broken. Band-instruments were battered in or 
kicked to bits, decorations torn down and strewed 
about the grounds. Even the permanent structures 
were sometimes assailed and damaged in the most 
ruthless manner. A large force of police would 



158 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

then appear, with the result that the ringleaders, 
generally well-known gilded youths, would be 
lodged in Chelsea Police Station. Every cell was 
filled, and the prisoners overflowing into the pas- 
sages, the place was turned into a veritable pande- 
monium. Hardly a man of either captors or 
captured escaped without some visible evidence of 
personal injury; the clothing of most often hung in 
tatters. But the hard knocks exchanged left little 
ill-humour behind them. Both swells and police 
looked upon the whole affair as an enjoyable inter- 
lude, which broke the monotony of everyday life. 
Fines of £5 and £lO were inflicted, and, beyond a 
few broken heads, no one was very much the worse. 
Another resort, somewhat similar to Cremorne, 
though, of course, an indoor one, was the Argyll 
Rooms, the last of the London dancing-places, which 
was closed at the end of the late seventies of the 
last century. " The Argyll " was a unique place of 
entertainment, which was frequented by people who 
were tired of the music-halls and did not care for 
the theatres. Though most of the habitues were 
individuals who could come to no harm at this 
resort, in 1878 the Middlesex magistrates, in whom 
at that time was vested the licensing of such 
places, suddenly decided to yield to the voice of 
the fanatics who had long demanded the suppres- 
sion of this dancing-place, with the result that it 
closed. For some time later a restaurant was carried 
on in the building, but this proved a failure. In 1 882 
a licence was granted to Mr. Bignell, the proprietor, 
to turn it into a music-hall, and it was then opened 
as the Trocadero, where the late Miss Lottie Collins 



THE GREAT MACDERMOTT 159 

made her first appearance. Since those days the 
place has been entirely transformed, and is now the 
very successful Trocadero Restaurant, run by the 
well-known firm of Lyons, who have accomplished 
a veritable revolution in the difficult art of pro- 
viding refreshment for the public of London. 
The most popular music-hall in the eighties was 
the old London Pavilion, built on the site of Dr. 
Kahn's anatomical museum, long denounced as a 
West End scandal. Here the "Great MacDer- 
mott " used to delight enthusiastic audiences with 
his very full-blooded ditties. No doubt they were 
generally inane and sometimes of an undesirable 
tendency, but, with all their shortcomings, there was 
considerable spirit and life in some of them. For a 
time, indeed, owing to his famous song, " We don't 
want to fight, but, by Jingo, if we do," which 
originated the term "jingoism," still in use to-day, 
this lion-comique came to be quite a political power, 
crowds flocking to the old Pavilion to applaud his 
bombast. Another song, dealing with the mis- 
fortunes of a late highly gifted politician in the 
Divorce Court, was also vastly popular. Though 
perhaps not in the best of taste, it was not unamusing, 
and was set to a capital tune. This production, 
with all its faults, was much more full of go and 
swing than anything sung in the gorgeous music- 
halls of to-day. 

MacDermott in private life was a most exemplary 
citizen, but on the stage he was essentially a rollick- 
ing singer. He voiced the attitude towards life 
which at that period was assumed by a number of 
young men. Their ideal would appear to have 



160 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

consisted in being able to consume an unlimited 
amount of alcohol, smoke numberless cigars, and 
bask in the smiles of facile beauty. His voice was 
very loud, but not, I fear, a very good one ; yet when 
(holding an opera-hat with coloured silk lining, and 
a coloured silk handkerchief in his shirt-front) he 
came to the footlights, the whole house seemed to 
be animated by a spirit of vitality and enjoyment 
unknown to the music-hall frequenters of the present 
day. Few who knew it will forget the rollicking 
air of irresponsible gaiety which pervaded the old 
Pavilion at the time when a chairman was one of 
its most cherished institutions. Besides announcing 
the appearance of performers and keeping order, 
he smoked innumerable cigars. A seat at the 
table at which he sat facing the audience was 
considered to be quite an honour by young fellows 
about town. 

Though the entertainment provided at modern 
palaces of variety is highly elaborate and refined, 
some of those who remember the old music-halls 
cannot help regretting the unrestrained vitality 
which was one of their principal features. 

The songs, no doubt, were not infrequently 
coarse and unedifying, the music was feeble ; but, 
nevertheless, the whole thing accurately reflected 
a certain side of life, and therefore was really more 
artistic than many a far more costly and refined 
modern entertainment. 

The old school of music-hall singers is now 
practically extinct. Vance, who was occasionally 
something more than free in his songs, Charles God- 
frey, Jenny Hill — the "Vital Spark" — and many 



THE "LION COMIQUE^^ 161 

others, are gone. Peace to their ashes ! Arthur 
Roberts gives entertainments in the provinces, and 
is seldom seen in town, whilst practically all the 
other singers who delighted old-fashioned music- 
hall audiences have disappeared. Though some of 
their methods would be out of place in this fastidious 
age, they did a good deal to amuse, and perhaps, 
in their own peculiar fashion, contributed to the 
happiness of their time more than many strict and 
strait-laced people. Their worst fault was that 
they were constantly hymning the praises of alcohol, 
and thus conveyed an impression that a capacity for 
consuming large quantities of it was a thing to be 
proud of. 

Chief amongst the " Lion Comiques " was the late 
George Leybourne, who, in 1867, created a regular 
furore with " Champagne Charlie." This song he 
sang dressed as a swell, with the long whiskers 
known as " Piccadilly weepers." 

Every night he arrived at the " halls " at which 
he sang in a yellow coach drawn by four greys, 
and occasionally he was to be seen in this equipage 
in the daytime. 

As he passed through the West End in his four- 
in-hand, dressed in a gorgeous fur coat and smoking 
a huge cigar, Leybourne attracted great atten- 
tion, with the result that " Champagne Charlie " 
was sung, hummed, and whistled all over the 
town. 

Many people — but not the singer, who was also 
the composer — made a great deal of money out of it. 

In all probability the song did something to 
increase the popularity of champagne, which in 

11 



162 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

those days could be procured at a comparatively 
moderate price. 

Before this period the greater proportion drunk 
in England, and especially in the provinces, had 
been sweet ; it was M. Hubinet, agent for Mme. 
Pommery, who gave him a free hand and almost 
unlimited supplies of cash, who first introduced 
dry champagne. By means of various amusing and 
original methods he pushed her excellent brand 
with the greatest success, and it is greatly owing 
to him that Pommery now enjoys such widespread 
popularity. 

As the public taste for it increased, all sorts 
of ingenious means were used to pufF various 
brands of champagne. A play is even said to have 
been written with the intention of increasing the 
sale of a certain cuvee. 

A sequel to " Champagne Charlie" was " Moet and 
Chandon," also composed by George Leybourne, 
and sung by him dressed in a wonderful frogged 
blue coat edged with fur. There is no reason, 
however, for thinking that the singer was subsidized 
by the famous firm of wine-growers. 

Later on, Leybourne abandoned the praises of 
sparkling wine, and, like so many of his contem- 
poraries on the old music-hall stage, turned his 
attention to songs about love. 

He died a comparatively young man. I see 
him now, a sick man, but still imbued with the 
spirit of life, singing in his catching way, " Ting ! 
ting ! that's how the bell goes !" Alas ! a sad- 
toned bell was soon to toll for him. 

A popular figure on the music-hall stage during 




THE GREAT COMIC SONG WRITTEN & SUNG BY 

OlO'RG'l LEYBOl 

Music by Alfred Lee. 



BESSIE BELLWOOD 163 

the seventies was Pat Feeney, a prominent star of 
the past. 

Many will remember the pleasant moments they 
passed listening to his clever drolleries and render- 
ings of Irish ditties. 

A contemporary of Feeney was the late Fred 
Albert, easily first among the topical vocalists 
flourishing at that time in the " Halls." His great 
forte was extemporizing, and he was noted for his 
knack of composing, on the spur of the moment, 
verses on any celebrity, or even on a member of 
his audience. 

Best of all the old music-hall singers was the 
inimitable Bessie Bell wood, in her prime an exceed- 
ingly handsome woman, with a most graceful and 
fascinating sweep of her right arm as she advanced 
towards the audience. Her " What cheer, 'Ria," 
" Aubrey Plantagenet," and other ditties, never 
failed to bring down the house. Miss Bellwood 
possessed considerable powers of trenchant repartee, 
and was an expert at routing any disorderly reveller 
from amongst the audience when, as was not in- 
frequent in those days, he sought to be facetious 
at her expense. 

Bessie Bellwood's real name was Elizabeth Ann 
Katherine Mahoney, and she was, I believe, the 
niece of John Mahoney, in his day a well-known 
black-and-white artist, who executed illustrations 
for " OUver Twist " and '' Our Mutual Friend " for 
the Household Edition of Charles Dickens. 

She died in 1896, at the very zenith of her popu- 
larity. Only thirty-six years old, she was followed 
to her grave by a large and sympathetic crowd. 



164 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

In the eighties, Charles Coborn, who happily is 
still alive, enjoyed great popularity with his famous 
song, " The man who broke the bank at Monte 
Carlo," as did Mr. Chevalier with " Knocked 'em 
in the Old Kent Road." 

Both Coborn and Chevalier, it should be added, 
were far more refined artistes than the ordinary 
music-hall singers of their time. JNIr. Chevalier, 
indeed, was really a good actor — proof of which he 
is still giving in the inimitable impersonations of 
popular types with which he continues to delight 
an appreciative public. 

Another most amusing singer, in quite a different 
line, was Arthur Roberts, who on the music-hall 
stage found a very congenial atmosphere for his 
peculiar methods and wit. His facial play when 
singing some song dealing with London life was 
quite inimitable. He was the incarnate spirit of 
Anti-Puritanism, and even those who disappro\ed 
of the ideas which he expressed could not help 
laughing at him. 

Some of his songs — for instance, "I'm Living with 
Mother now" — would scarcely be appreciated by 
the patrons of our carefully censored modern 
palaces of variety. These, for all their gilding 
and silk, are not, in the writer's opinion, so amusing 
as the old-fashioned, non-luxurious music-hall of 
a bygone era. 

The extraordinary popularity of prominent music- 
hall singers was shown by the enormous crowd of 
people who attended the funeral of the " King's 
Jester," as Dan I^eno in his later years was 
called. 



THE PALACE OF VARIETIES 165 

Thousands also followed the genial Herbert 
Campbell to his last resting-place. This clever 
singer, owing to his peculiar gifts, was as popular 
with the new style of music-hall frequenters as he 
had been with their predecessors of a more robust 
age. 

The modern palace of varieties, though evolved 
from the music-hall, now provides quite a different 
entertainment. Many of the turns given would, 
in reality, be more in place in a theatre, concert- 
room, or circus. The main feature of the old 
music-hall was the singing of comic songs. At 
the modern palace of varieties there is very little 
of this, and such songs as are sung are generally 
of quite a different kind from those popular in 
the past. 

The entertainment now furnished at the vast 
majority of variety halls, whilst totally inoffensive, 
rarely reflects any side of real life at all. It is, in 
short, the expression of nothing but vapidity, 
though none the less popular for that. 

In spite of much criticism, cant, and abuse, the 
old-fashioned music-hall was often permeated by a 
real spirit of life — not, perhaps, of very desirable 
life. Rather was it the expression of the boisterous, 
irresponsible, and free-living spirit which distin- 
guished Englishmen in the rough but glorious days 
of our sturdy past. 

To-day everything is different. Strolling, a short 
time ago, into one of the gorgeously decorated 
palaces of varieties, 1 was struck by the contrast 
with the old-fashioned music-hall of other days. 
The suppressed hum of enjoyment, which was 



166 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

formerly a feature of such places, was totally lack- 
ing, replaced by a decorous and what some love to 
call " refined " calm. Clever acrobatic turns and 
dancing furnished the major part of the programme, 
together with a certain amount of singing, well 
calculated to delight suburban drawing-rooms ; 
but there was a sad lack of vivacity. In my 
opinion, an old-fashioned music-hall audience would 
have had none of it ; yes, one turn they would 
have liked — INliss Marie Lloyd, with whose entry 
upon the stage the spirit of the defunct music-hall 
seemed to live again. 

Another wonderfully clever singer who has the 
vitality which distinguished the old school is Miss 
Vesta Tilley, who never sang better than she does 
to-day. Of late years the tendency has been for 
music-halls to develop into smoking theatres. The 
programme given at most of them is generally 
modelled on the same pattern. At present there is 
some hostility to four-footed performers, though 
they are often amusing enough ; and even when they 
are kindly treated and trained, I do not know that 
performing animals are very much in place at variety 
theatres. In old days there were special haunts 
where such shows were given. The most celebrated 
of all was one directed by a Scotchman, Bisset, who, 
in the last century, was renowned for his talent in 
educating horses, dogs, and cats. With unwearying 
patience he taught three of these latter small 
domestic tigers, with music-books before them, to 
strike their paws in such directions on the dulcimer 
as to produce several tunes, squalling at the same 
time in different keys or tones — first, second, and 



"SUB ROSA" 167 

third — by way of concert. Bisset's house was every 
day crowded, and he suffered great interruption 
to his business. Among the rest he was visited by 
an exhibitor of wonders, Pinchbeck, brother to the 
Httle gentleman whose elegant trifling in the toy- 
way was once so well known. This individual 
advised him to give a public exhibition of his 
animals in the Haymarket, and even promised, if 
allowed a share, to become a partner in the 
exhibition. Bisset agreed ; but the day before the 
performance Pinchbeck withdrew his offer, and 
the other was left to act for himself. The well- 
known " Cat's Opera " was then instituted, and 
regular performances took place, in which a horse, 
a dog, monkeys, and Bisset's cats went through 
their several parts with uncommon applause to 
crowded houses. The venture was soon a great 
success, and before long Bisset found himself pos- 
sessed of a considerable sum as the reward of his 
patience and ingenuity. 

In the late seventies and early eighties the music- 
halls were not patronized by ladies as they are 
to-day. Occasionally one or two of them would 
be taken just to see what the entertainment was 
like, but all this was done sitb rosci. Not that the 
female element was wanting in the old " Halls." At 
the old Pavilion, which only had boxes on one 
side of the house, every one of them usually con- 
tained one or two gorgeously attired ladies. The 
swain or swains attendant — " mashers " they were 
called — lolled in the background in the languid 
manner distinguishing the Crutch and Toothpick 
Brigade, a confraternity whose principal place of 



168 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

worship was the sacred shrine of burlesque— the old 
Gaiety. The first of the famous burlesques here 
was "Little Doctor Faust," produced in 1877. 
Owing to its great success it was followed by 
many others, written on similar lines by the late 
H. J. Byron. 

In 1878 six arc electric lights were installed out- 
side the theatre, and this was the first intro- 
duction to England and London of the illuminant 
so common to-day. Later on, in "Ariel," the 
employment in one scene of the new light was a 
great novelty. Thus arose the gradual progress 
of a method of lighting which is now practically 
universal in the theatrical world. The first theatre 
to be entirely lighted by electricity, as everyone 
knows, was the Savoy. 

One of the most successful burlesques was " The 
Forty Thieves," in which the famous Gaiety 
quartette — the " Merry Family " as one of the songs 
ran — Nelly Farren, Kate Vaughan, Edward Terry, 
and E. W. Royce, were seen at their very best. 
Alas I the words they used to sing have been 
verified ; and not one of them " will ever come back 
any more." 

No one who remembers those days will ever 
forget the wonderful sparkle and life displayed by 
Miss Farren, or the graceful dancing of Miss Kate 
Vaughan. Miss Farren, indeed, was absolutely 
unique in her style ; and probably no actress so 
imbued with the spirit of true burlesque will ever 
be seen again. The best tribute to the memory of 
this gifted woman, I think, was a little poem by 
H. B. published in the Westminster Gazette. 



MISS FA RREN AND MR. LESLIE 169 

" She was a peal of laughter, ringing its way thro' life ; 
She was Gaiety's censure of London's serious strife. 
' Laugh with me, romp with me, London !' this was her 

dinning song ; 
' Dance with me, frail and feeble ; my music shall make you 

strong !' 

" Into a world of sorrow born with a festal laugh, 
Tripping her way she revelled, and mocked at the sage's 

staff. 
' Follow me, follow me, mortals ; life's but a jest, a toy ! 
Frowns are the fruit of folly, smiles are the flowers of joy !' " 

The retirement of Miss Farren through illness, 
and the death of Mr. Fred Leslie, one of the 
cleverest and most versatile actors who ever lived, 
virtually sounded the death- knell of the Gaiety 
burlesque. Before this there had been many 
changes in the company. Miss Letty Lind, whose 
dancing in its own way was as dainty and graceful 
as that of Miss Kate Vaughan, had come ; and Miss 
Connie Gilchrist, who was worshipped by all the 
frequenters of the old Gaiety, had gone. The 
sacred lamp of burlesque was not yet entirely 
extinguished ; but its flame began already to burn 
low. 

The transition from burlesque to musical comedy 
was effected by the now almost forgotten "• Faust 
up to Date," in which poor merry Florence St. John 
acted and sang so brightly as Marguerite. In 
this played the late Mr. Lonnen, who had one or 
two excellent songs. A pas-de-quatre had a great 
success. The whole thing greatly appealed to the 
young men of that day, who were to be found in 
great force in the stalls previous to betaking them- 
selves to the night clubs, which were at that time in 
full swing. 



170 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

Burlesque has now entirely disappeared, so-called 
musical comedy — whatever that may mean — having 
completely usurped its place. This form of enter- 
tainment entails even less exercise of thought in 
the audience than did the old burlesques, which 
were not infrequently clever and amusing, besides 
being wittily written. Musical comedy, however, 
seldom fails to please modern audiences, to whose 
mental capacity it would seem to be exactly suited. 

In old days the vast majority of stalls on a Gaiety 
first night were filled with men — the viveurs of the 
town. A very different state of affairs prevails 
now, well-known ladies forming a very large pro- 
portion of the audience. Indeed, in its way, a 
Gaiety first night has become quite a social event, 
whilst the old Tom and Jeriy spirit, like the wit 
and jollity of the forgotten burlesques, has no place 
in the entertainment. 

In the new and prosperous Gaiety, though the 
scenery is more elaborate, the dresses more gorgeous, 
and the faces just as pretty as of old, an entirely 
different spirit prevails. The entertainment is too 
often lacking in cohesion, whilst, of course, the 
lines are not as witty as some of those in the old 
burlesques. Nevertheless, musical comedy has pro- 
duced some stars of its own — notably Miss Gertie 
Millar, that most attractive and graceful diseuse and 
dancer. 

Mr. George Grossmith is also an amusing actor. 
No one can better assume the manners and idio- 
syncrasies of the modern young man of pleasure ; 
and though his style is quite a different one, this 
clever actor has taken the place of the late Fred 



CHORUS-GIRLS 171 

Leslie. Mr. Grossmith, talented son of a talented 
father, is not only a most amusing actor and singer, 
but a clever writer of plays and revues. When 
one finds him so constantly to the fore, in such a 
variety of roles, one cannot help being amazed at 
his versatility and the energy which enables him to 
be so ubiquitous. 

Like the old Gaiety company, the mashers who 
flocked to see them are now dispersed or dead — 
not a few have done good service for the Empire in 
various parts of the world. 

In spite of the ridiculous attitude which the 
Crutch and Toothpick Brigade pretended to adopt 
towards life, I believe their admiration for the stars 
of burlesque was more virile than the flabby adora- 
tion with which a large number of modern young 
men regard some of their idols. A few mashers 
married chorus-girls, but the burlesque stage was not 
regarded as being likely to furnish ideal brides. 

To-day, marriage with a young lady of musical 
comedy seems to be considered by a certain number 
of people as quite a feather in a young fellow's cap. 

Within recent years the Gaiety, Daly's, and 
other theatres, which offer a light form of enter- 
tainment to a faithful band of intelligent patrons, 
have furnished a considerable number of wives 
to the aristocracy. So well is the value of 
musical comedy as a marriage-mart understood, 
that at the present day girls of good social station 
go upon the stage without incurring much opposi- 
tion from their parents. 

The chorus-girls of old days were drawn from a far 
more humble class ; very few could boast of anything 



172 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

but a very plebeian descent. Nevertheless, some of 
them, especially after a good supper, used to throw 
out mysterious hints as to their illustrious ancestry. 
One of them, indeed, having made an aristocratic 
marriage, so impressed her husband with this that 
he eventually instructed a genealogist to make 
exhaustive researches into his wife's descent. The 
report of the expert, however, was disappointing. 
The only thing he could discover, said he, was that 
the lady's grandfather had played the hind-legs of 
an elephant in a provincial pantomime of the early 
fifties. 

The different points of view as to the stage 
which a man takes in youth and in his more 
mature years are often curious. 

" Now," said a little actress to a man-about- 
town, who had gone into theatrical management as 
a business after sowing his wild- oats, " now that 
you are manager, I hope you will engage me." 

" Well, I don't know. I'll see." 

" How ! What do you mean ? Have you not 
tried a dozen times to obtain an engagement for 
me at different theatres ?" 

" That's true enough, but then I thought only of 
your interests." 

" And now ?" 

" Why, I am thinking of my own." 

On the whole, the musical-comedy stage has 
been a most beneficent institution to a good many 
young ladies. Many a broken-hearted maiden has 
been placed in first-rate spirits by a breach-of- 
promise jury awarding her a verdict and damages 
of several hundred pounds. 



PROFITABLE VIRTUE 173 

\^irtue, when deftly exploited, is an even more 
profitable asset than vice, and at the present day 
not a few stars of the lighter stage pride them- 
selves on the thought that the purity of their 
morals is only equalled by that of their com- 
plexions. 

The main efforts of most modern chorus-girls 
are directed towards making an advantageous 
marriage, but they are ready enough to accept 
invitations to dine or sup ; presents of jewelry 
and the like are also not refused by most of them ; 
but they take good care that the limits of pro- 
priety, as understood on the musical-comedy stage, 
should not be transgressed. 

Provided they see some chance of making a 
good match, they will patiently tolerate any 
amount of twaddle or common boredom. The 
old style chorus-girl, however, was different. 

" How amiable and tender," said a timid and 
enterprising lover, " is the passion of the dove !" 

His companion, a particularly ardent maiden, was 
not going to stand such milk-and-water sentiment. 

" I expect you're quite right about that," she 
rejoined ; " but I think I'd better tell you at once 
that I don't like doves that only coo." 

With regard to personal beauty, the modern 
show-girls are undoubtedly better-looking, more 
ladylike, and dressed in better taste than were 
those of the past. 

It is curious to see how the ideas of different 
generations vary. Formerly, for instance, girls 
who had red hair were pitied and, amongst the 
humbler classes, jeered at — a favourite jibe at a red- 



174 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

haired person being to call him or her " Carrots." 
Now red hair is thought to be a beauty, and women 
possessing ruddy locks are generally considered 
lucky. 

Another improvement is, that theatrical ladies 
are far less given to the odious and unbecoming 
habit of dyeing their hair. The bright yellow 
locks, so popular in the eighties, now rarely offend 
the eye. 

The ladies who — were such places still open — 
would frequent the Corinthian and Gardenia, have 
also improved in dress and behaviour, and rarely 
use the strong language which so easily fell from 
the lips of those who preceded them. An oath 
from a woman's lips always sounded jarring and 
unnatural ; one would as soon expect a bullet from 
a rosebud. 

The chorus-girl has changed, and many other 
things have changed too. One result is that her 
tastes are more expensive than of yore. Motoring 
is now highly popular with the fair sex. Gone are 
the days when mashers took pretty girls down to 
Richmond in well - appointed Shrewsburys and 
Talbots, driven by a glossy-hatted driver with a 
small nosegay in his buttonhole. To-day, when 
the triumphant and discreet taxi speeds through 
the London streets, which have seen so many 
forms of locomotion come and go, songs like 
" I say, cabby," and Arthur Roberts's famous 
" On me 'ansom," would be quite out of date. 
Perhaps, in the future, the taxi, too, will be 
supplanted by some more advanced and convenient 
method of progression ! 



GOLF 175 

Another great change is the free-and-easy 
costume affected by young men-about-town — a 
fashion which, no doubt, has been largely produced 
by the enormous popularity of golf. It is curious to 
remember that thirty years ago the game was 
practically unknown to Londoners. The causes of 
its present immense popularity are easy to perceive. 
People of all ages can take part in it, and it is one 
of the few games in which experience can com- 
pensate for deficiency in physical power. Further- 
more, the element of chance imported by the 
nature of the ground constantly supplies that 
hope which nowhere springs more readily than in 
the golfer's breast. Many players derive great 
benefit to their health ; for golf is as complete a 
mental change as billiards, and has the healthful 
accompaniments that billiards lacks. Its con- 
tinuous interest is another advantage. From the 
first " tee " shot to the last '* putt " there is some- 
thing to play for. " Gie up the hole !" said a 
veteran, playing the hopeless odds of " four more," 
when his opponent was lying on the brink. 
" Man ! he may drap dead afore he plays !" 
Another point in favour of the game is its 
physical freedom. Bound to no irksome discipline, 
unembarrassed by complicated preparations, the 
golfer passes from the stuffy town to some breezy 
upland heath, or seeks the crisp, short turf which 
lies beside the exhilarating sea. 

Golf and motoring have effected a revolution in 
costume. The smart young fellows in frock-coats 
and glossy top-hats — so many of whom one used to 
see in Piccadilly — have disappeared. Caps and soft 



176 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

shirts are now worn quite freely in the West End, 
and great slackness prevails in masculine costume, 
which was once so smart. Though their dress has 
changed, the ideas of amusement popular with 
young men-about-town are much the same as 
ever. An admirable and true picture of the exist- 
ence led by a youthful and careless pleasure- 
seeker of the present time has been given in Mr. 
Gilbert Frankau's clever poem, " One of Us." 

In his ways, as well as his dress, the young man 
of to-day is far more free-and-easy than his pre- 
decessor of Crutch and Toothpick days. A 
striking instance of this was the subaltern who, the 
first time he came on parade, greeted his Colonel 
by clapping his heels together, saluting, and shout- 
ing out, " What ho !" 

The young man of pleasure is also, 1 fancy, more 
temperate in his pleasures than his predecessor. 
Thirty years ago his predecessors frequented the 
Gardenia and Corinthian — both of them amusing 
places, though the former was at times inclined to 
be too rowdy. 

Most of the bright spirits who footed it so blithely 
to the strains of " See me dance the polka " have 
now disappeared, like the fair ones with whom they 
laughed and supped. 

^larried, settled down in the country, or dead, 
are the Connies, Lotties, Idas, and Ethels of that 
vanished epoch, while a new generation of smiling 
damsels has arisen to rule in their stead. 

At the better class of night-clubs — at least, during 
the earlier portion of the evening — the ladies rather 
affected the pose of behaving as if they were at 



NIGHT CLUBS 177 

a Society dance. Tvater on, however, they would 
often relax. 

One charming damsel, having hitherto main- 
tained a very correct and even severe attitude, 
electrified a supper-party which she joined by 
suddenly kicking over the table, remarking, " I'm 
tired of being a lady. Let's have some fun." 

In the lower class of clubs, which were only suc- 
cessors of the night-houses of the sixties, scenes 
were not infrequent. At one I remember, where 
a gallery for supper overlooked the dancing-hall, 
rows often occurred ; and occasionally dancing would 
be interrupted by a shower of bottles thrown by 
persons above who were carried away by the 
exuberance of their feelings. 

The particular virtue of these places was, that 
they destroyed the pose of being tired of everything, 
which had prevailed amongst a certain set in the 
late seventies. The blase attitude of these mashers 
has now long been utterly out of date. The sur- 
vivors of that period, in their middle and old age, 
go to the other extreme, for, in late years, a number 
of them have developed into individuals dowered 
with enormous zest for all kinds of amusement. 
Surely never has there been a time when middle- 
aged and even old men have been so avid of enjoy- 
ment as to-day ! For instance, at the great fancy 
balls which have come into fashion within the last 
few years, a considerable portion of the male 
dancers have been men verging upon or over forty, 
some even a great deal older. Whereas thirty or 
forty years ago a man over thirty who donned 
fancy dress would have had to put up with a good 

12 



178 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

deal of chaff, if not of ridicule — to-day, an in- 
dividual of the same age assumes the garb of a 
rajah, pierrot, or any other fantastic costume 
without the slightest feeling of shyness, his only 
disturbing thought being the idea that some con- 
temporary of his may have chosen a more effective 
or striking costume. The mania for dressing up — 
a process so abhorrent to the old-fashioned English- 
man — seems now likely to be overdone. The 
hundred-years-ago ball, for instance, though re- 
markable on account of the number of gorgeous 
old-time uniforms displayed, cannot be said to 
have been distinguished by any great spirit of 
vivacity. 

Fancy balls, to be successful, must, of necessity, 
be Bohemian. The hundred-years-ago ball claimed 
to be, and actually was, a Society function, 
and for that reason lacked go. The spectacle of 
a number of well-known social figures strutting 
about dressed up in fancy costumes, or dancing 
sedately, may be pleasing enough to the eye, but 
after a time it ceases to be enlivening. Also the 
flashing of various coloured lights upon the dancers 
is apt to have an irritating effect. The only 
effective system of lighting for a fancy ball, is to 
have the place in which it is held as bright as pos- 
sible. This has always been the method followed 
in France, where such things are thoroughly under- 
stood. Perhaps, however, owing to the great age 
of some of the people who took part in the Albert 
Hall affair, it was thought best to keep the place in 
a dim and subdued light. 



CHAPTER VIII 

PLEASURE-LOVING PARIS OF THE PAST 

The natural home of the fancy or masked ball is 
not England, but France. A convincing proof 
of how little the people of the former country- 
understand the true spirit of such revels is the cold 
reserve which prevailed at most of those which have 
recently taken place. A feature of the evening 
at one was to be the unmasking of the ladies at 
a stated hour ; but as a large number of the revellers 
discarded their masks and cloaks before reaching 
the ball-room, the whole thing fell rather flat. 

A very small proportion of those present at these 
fetes have the least idea of entering into the spirit 
of the thing. Most of them stalk gloomily about, 
taking good care not to address a word to any- 
one unless they are more or less intimate friends. 
On the other hand, however, considerable gaiety 
prevails at the small private dances — Wells's and 
others — which of recent years have become so 
popular amongst the pleasure-loving section of 
men-about-town. At these entertainments even 
ladies of the musical-comedy stage occasionally 
deign to throw off some of their insular reserve, 
the result being that the revels, without being 
indecorous, are often enjoyable and amusing. 

179 



180 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

At such dances, however, the great majority of the 
guests are on more or less intimate terms ; it is the 
mixture of all sorts of individuals, mostly strangers 
to one another, which causes our big modern fancy 
balls to be so gloomy. The truth is, that fetes of this 
sort are unsuited to the spirit of modern London. 

A hundred years ago or so, things were different 
here. The entertainments given by Mrs. Cornelys 
in Soho Square were full of gaiety and fun ; whilst 
at the big fancy balls everyone chaffed and bantered 
everyone else, whether they were acquainted or not. 
A large proportion of what may euphemistically be 
called the " Bohemian element " was generally 
present, and imparted that spirit of full-blooded 
vitality in which modern fetes — when organized, 
or largely attended, by so-called Society — are so 
woefully lacking. 

All over Europe to-day spontaneous gaiety 
and unrestrained revelry seem to be dying away. 
A proof of this is the decadence of the Paris Opera 
balls. Even in the eighties, though much of their 
glory had departed, it was a wonderful sight to 
see the quadrilles danced to the music of a splendid 
band. There was a joyous freedom and entrain 
which could never be copied on this side of the 
Channel. Though everyone talked to everyone 
else, it was astonishing to see what good order (I 
cannot with truth say decorum) prevailed. Not- 
withstanding the great amount of licence per- 
mitted, quarrels or brawls were rare, for the 
majority of people were too busy amusing them- 
selves to take offence. 

The first ball to which the public was admitted 



OPERA BALLS 181 

without distinction, upon payment of money, was 
given at the Opera, January 2, 1716; the permission 
for the estabhshment of such balls having been 
granted, it is said, by the Regent Duke of Orleans 
in the preceding year. The price of the ticket 
was five livres, and it was forbidden to any person 
to go out from the ball and re-enter without 
paying a second time. In 1717 the exclusive privi- 
lege of these balls was granted to the Opera ; but it 
does not seem to have been observed, for we hear 
of balls given at other theatres during the ten years 
for which the privilege was originally granted. It 
was at the Opera Comique of those days that the 
idea of making the pit level with the stage by 
boards, for the purpose of dancing, was first carried 
into practice by Father Sebastian, a Carmelite 
Friar and a mechanical genius, on the suggestion 
of the Chevalier du Bouillon. In 174G these balls 
had so increased in public favour, that the Director 
of the Opera petitioned for a restriction of their 
number in his favour, and about that time several 
persons were proceeded against for giving subscrip- 
tion balls in private houses, some of which were 
not of the best reputation. Towards the end 
of the eighteenth century the Opera balls were 
organized nearly upon the same plan as they were 
during the Second Empire, only with much less 
splendour of decoration. It was mentioned by a 
contemporary writer as a matter of astonishment 
that " 22 lustres with 12 bougies in each, 32 arms 
with two each, 10 girandoles with five each, to say 
nothing of the candles, lampions, and pots-a-feu 
that lighted the approaches," were added to sixty 



182 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

musicians, half at each end of the theatre, for the 
decoration of the ball and the amusement of the 
company. 

The great Revolution did nothing to destroy the 
taste for such amusements, and in the early part of 
the nineteenth century the Parisians danced and 
revelled more gaily than ever. Even Napoleon 
occasionally attended the revels at the Opera, a 
steel-grey domino being the costume which he 
usually affected. 

About 1832 the public balls of Paris were per- 
meated by a spirit of picturesque, full-blooded, and 
occasionally brutal life. Not only the Opera, but 
most of the other theatres were used for dancing 
during the carnival, a special public frequenting 
each particular resort. 

Shopmen and shopgirls, milliners and clerks, 
went to the Porte St. Martin, the Ambigu, and the 
Cirque Olympique ; the middle classes, more staid, 
went to the Opera Comique and the Palais Royal, 
where good order and decency were preserved. All 
classes went to these balls, including fashionable 
ladies — who, owing to their masks, had a good 
chance of escaping recognition. 

The especial haunt of the students and grisettes 
was the Odeon ; here great scandal was once caused 
by someone, for a bet, smuggling in a young woman 
with nothing on but a pair of gloves and a boa ! 

The wildest gaiety of all prevailed at the Varietes, 
where all the eccentricities of French dancing were 
to be observed. 

In the early forties the carnival had lost a good 
deal of its gaiety, and such maskers as were to be 



« d:^bardeurs '' iss 

seen in the street were but poor copies of those 
who once dehghted the boulevards on Mardi Gras ; 
nevertheless, in the public balls the fun continued 
to be fast and furious. It was at this time that the 
Parisiennes were so fond of appearing as debar- 
deurs — that pretty costume immortalized by the 
talented pencil of Gavarni, which ladies fond of 
fancy dress would do well to revive. 

Quadrilles and gallops were the favourite dances ; 
wild and daring iKis seuls occasionally calling for 
the interference of the sergents de ville, who, on 
occasion, manifested a prudery little to the taste of 
the excited crowd, which, mad with excitement, 
delighted in kicking its heels in the air as only 
French people are capable of doing. The dance 
known as the " can-can " achieved immense popu- 
larity in the thirties. A strange individual named 
La Battut, the son of a rich Frenchwoman of 
good birth and an English chemist, first intro- 
duced that dance into Parisian balls. Up to his 
time it was unknown outside low suburban dancing- 
places. 

In the thirties the Opera balls took a new lease of 
life. They had become too respectable, it was said ; 
and so much was decorum respected, that a mother 
could have taken her daughter to them. In spite 
of their respectability, the fetes of that date afforded 
great opportunities for intrigue and adventure. 
Amusing incidents were common. 

At one of these balls a certain gentleman, pos- 
sessed of a most jealous nature and a most charming 
wife, insisted very inconveniently that madame 
should take her leave and return to the more 



184 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

decorous bosom of her family. " Never mind," said 
she to her partner; "invite me to dance in the next 
quadrille. You may rely upon me finding a way to 
stay for it." Slipping out while the sets were form- 
ing, she went into the gentlemen's dressing-room, 
found her husband's hat, and threw it out of the 
window. Then returning, and requesting her spouse 
to first find his hat and then call the carriage, she 
accepted partners for the next six dances, quite sure 
of two hours before the hat could be found. 

About 1838, Mira, a well-known organizer of 
dances, made an effort to put some life into the 
Opera balls. He accordingly imported ballerinas in 
costume, who attracted pleasure-seekers by their 
unrestrained gambols. He was not, however, 
entirely successful until he engaged Musard, a 
conductor who afterwards achieved considerable 
celebrity. He deserves to be remembered, for in 
his own particular line he was never equalled. Born 
about 1792, he began his career by playing the 
French horn at some of the small dancing-places 
which about a century ago — when Belleville and 
other districts, now long built over, were almost 
rural — abounded in the environs of Paris. It was 
some years later that, migrating to London, he laid 
the foundations of the celebrity he eventually 
achieved, and his compositions then became popular 
on both sides of the Channel. About 1830, 
Musard, having returned to Paris, gained renown 
as leader of the band at the masked balls given at 
the Vari^tes. At this time he seems to have had 
aspirations towards higher forms of musical art, 
but these, probably for pecuniary reasons, he soon 



MUSARD 185 

abandoned. His next post as conductor was at 
the Concert Musard, in the Champs Elysees, but 
he abandoned this to lead a fine orchestra at the 
Salle Vivienne, where his concerts and balls soon 
created a furore. At the same time he conducted 
at the masked balls of the Salle Ventadour and of 
the Opera Comique. In his own line Musard was 
now the idol of Paris — the best chef d'o7'cliest7X, it 
was declared, from the Boulevard St. Martin to 
the Great Wall of China. 

At the Opera Comique, surrounded by a thousand 
wax lights, he was in his glory; his expression suit- 
ing every phase of the gay music of his band, whilst 
every nerve in his body seemed to vibrate in con- 
sonance with its merry strains. All Paris flocked 
to admire him, and in the world of pleasure he 
shared a universal popularity with Pomare, Rigo- 
lette, Mogador, and the other goddesses of the 
dancing-halls. 

At the Opera balls his success further increased ; 
there his orchestra consisted of forty-eight violins 
(twenty-four on each side of him), fourteen cornets- 
a-piston, twelve trombones, and a number of other 
instrumentalists in proportion. At certain moments 
it was a knack of his to produce curious effects by 
means of the breaking of chairs or the firing of a 
pistol, by which the finale of a quadrille was some- 
times marked. By such means he would urge the 
dancers into a veritable frenzy, till at the end of 
the quadrille they would invade the platform, and, 
hoisting Musard upon their shoulders, carry him in 
triumph through the applauding crowd. It may be 
added that a number of his quadrilles, full of gaiety 



186 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

and the joy of life, might well be drawn from the 
obscurity into which they have sunk. He was 
one of the first dance- composers to make use of 
counterpoint, which he occasionally employed in a 
very original manner ; for, in his way, he was a com- 
poser of considerable talent, who knew how to 
express in music the spirit of the Parisians of that 
light-liearted age. 

With Musard as leader of the orchestra, the Opera 
balls regained all their old popularity. The queens 
of the demi-monde attended in great force. Not a 
few great ladies made a point of being present, the 
masks which they wore preventing them from being 
recognized, or, at least, serving as an excuse for 
their visit. 

During the Revolution of 1848 Musard, laying 
down the baton which had beaten time for so many 
pretty feet, manifested some desire to enter politics ; 
but his aspirations in this direction received no en- 
couragement, and henceforth his fame seems to 
have decreased. Six years later Strauss, then chef 
d'orchestre of the Imperial Court, eclipsed the old 
leader by obtaining the conductorship of the Opera 
balls, after which Musard, no longer the Paganini 
ol' the dance or the king of the quadrille, settled 
down quietly at Auteuil, where he died in 1859. 

Though a regular series of balls was given at the 
great Opera House until within comparatively 
recent years, they had lost most of their popularity 
long before. Nevertheless, a quarter of a century 
ago they still retained some of their ancient and 
renowned entrain. On the nights when these balls 
were given, the great staircase of the Opera was a 



DECLINING GAIETY 187 

wonderful sight, its steps filled with a motley 
crowd of gaily -dressed maskers. Besides the great 
orchestra in the interior of the house there 
were two or three smaller ones in the foyer and 
elsewhere, all of which played with the greatest 
verve, while the music was always admirably 
chosen. When the ball was in full swing, the 
scene and the floor of the auditorium during the 
quadrilles was the most animated and lively scene 
in the world. Though old Parisians lamented the 
decline of French gaiety, the dances often showed 
the utmost abandon, the splendid band playing so 
well that even the paid dancers were occasionally 
quite carried away with excitement. A peculiar 
feature of this band was the crash of drums with 
which certain tunes were punctuated ; the writer 
does not remember ever having heard anything 
like it at any other balls — the crash in question 
was, of course, part of the musical tradition handed 
down from the days of Musard. In particular does 
the recollection of one admirable quadrille linger in 
the writer's mind. The music of this was taken 
from M. Andre Messager's then newly-composed 
operetta of " La Fauvette du Temple," one of the 
airs of which, " Le Parisien n'aime pas le metier 
de militaire," had at that time enchanted pleasure- 
loving Paris. The tune in question seemed to 
embody all the traditional gaiety of that joyous 
city ; and as the drums of the band crashed out, 
nearly everyone on the floor of the Opera House — 
even jaded onlookers not given to dancing — found 
themselves unconsciously beating time with their 
feet to the music. Innumerable pairs of legs — 



188 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

some of them very prettily-shaped legs — flew in 
the air, whilst old and young felt themselves 
filled with that peculiar feeling of careless and 
buoyant gaiety of which France alone still possesses 
the secret. 

This spirit was, perhaps, never more character- 
istically demonstrated than by an ovation which 
Michelet once received whilst crossing the gardens 
of the Luxembourg. Recognized by the students 
going to the lectures at the College de France, he 
was immediately surrounded, and, in spite of re- 
sistance, was borne in triumph to the gates. Verses 
in honour of " L'Amour," composed by a student in 
medicine, were sung by the joyous crowd ; and 
a young grisette, professing herself a passionate 
admirer of the work in question, drew her scissors 
from her pocket and cut off a goodly lock of 
the author's hair, which was distributed almost by 
the single hair to the numerous devotees of love 
It la Michelet there present. 

At that time all classes of the French population 
seem to have been moved by a light-hearted spirit 
which expressed itself in many different directions. 
This joyous impulse reached even the populace, 
which, in the country districts at least, is usually 
stolid and matter-of-fact. Gaiety and wit were 
everywhere held in high esteem ; and bons mots were 
more appreciated than ever before. One of the 
best of the latter, perhaps, was the retort of the 
sentry at the gate of the gardens of the Tuileries, 
who had had orders to admit no one without an 
official pass. 

A distinguished member of the French aris- 



THE LATIN QUARTER 189 

tocracy attempted to force an entrance, but the man 
stoutly declined to let him through. 

" I am the Prince de Poix," said the visitor ; 
" and of course I can come in." 

" Not at all," was the retort. " Even if you 
vi^ere the ' Roi des Haricots ' you would be obliged 
to remain outside." 

As for the students, they fairly bubbled over 
with vitality and life. 

To-day, we are told, the student of the Latin 
quarter is more staid than of yore. He is no 
longer the careless, impecunious being pictured in 
the pages of the delightful " Vie de Boheme " — that 
idealized sketch of Parisian student life which has 
charmed several generations. In connection with 
this subject it may be stated that Jean Wallon, 
who, in Murger's book figures as the light-hearted 
CoUine, became in after-life the most serious of 
men, being very much influenced by a devoted but 
austere wife, who only died a year or two ago. 
This lady hated the recollection of her husband's 
Bohemian days, which she sought to obliterate by 
all the means in her power. On one occasion she 
protested energetically against some comments 
upon the student days of her husband, whom she 
defended against the accusation of having been 
what she called one of the tristes viveurs de la 
Boheme de '48 ; and she could never think of the 
joyous Boheme pictured by Murger without real 
pain. 

Though the Bohemians of that far-away day 
were dissipated, they were also romantic, as was 
shown by a graceful gift sent to a young and 



190 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

beautiful French girl on her marriage. This was 
a pyramid of three thousand natural white roses, 
which created quite a sensation. No one knew 
exactly by whom it had been sent ; but rumour 
declared that it was the joint offering of those who 
had been in love with her, each unsuccessful swain 
having contributed a few blossoms. 

After the downfall of the great Napoleon, the 
English flocked to Paris, and for a good many years 
after the Battle of Waterloo, English bucks and 
bloods were to be seen about the Boulevard des 
Italiens. Their most popular lounge, however, 
was the Palais Royal. Till December 31, 1837, 
when the gaming-tables were suppressed, it was 
the great iNlecca of European men of pleasure. 
To-day it is the saddest place in all Paris, permeated 
as it is by a spirit of desolation and melancholy 
decay. 

There is always something pathetic about places 
which have sunk into a staid and forlorn state after 
having been the scene of unrestrained enjoyment. 

Walking through the deserted old place, formerly 
thronged by hordes of pleasure - seekers, one's 
thoughts involuntarily wander back to the time 
when all that was beautiful and frivolous congi-e- 
gated in its arcades. One thinks of all the pretty 
women and gallant men who laughed, loved, and 
gambled in the now untenanted rooms. Together 
with those of their generation who condemned 
their light-hearted ways they all lie mouldering in 
the grave. 

In its gaming days the Palais Royal, full of un- 
restrained gaiety and enjoyment, was the rendezvous 



THE PALAIS ROYAL 191 

of all pleasure-loving Paris. All classes were at 
home in its arcades, and here anyone with money 
in his pocket could indulge in every sort of 
dissipation. 

The boulevards at that time were not the lounges 
they became in later years ; nor was the Champs 
Elysees the beautiful drive we see to-day ; as for 
the Bois de Boulogne, it was a wilderness. 

Owing to many causes, the Palais Royal was 
then the centre of the European world of pleasure. 
An emporium of facile delights, it was also the 
meeting-place of rogues and swindlers, and the 
headquarters (for it then contained gaming-tables) 
of gamblers ; owing to the class of ladies attracted 
to it, it was, too, in high favour with people of easy 
morality. In the evening its well-lit piazzas and 
arcades were a fine sight, filled as they were with 
all the prettiest women in Paris, most of them very 
lightly clad and well skilled in the arts of trolling 
the tongue and rolling the eye. It was a dangerous 
and seductive place for a young man, and many a 
visitor, owing to the tables and the ladies, left a 
good deal of his money in the old Palace of Philippe 
Egalite. 

Restaurants and cafes abounded there. One of 
the most celebrated was the Caf^ de JMille Colonnes, 
full of columns and mirrors, where a very hand- 
some lady, well known as La Belle Limonadiere, 
presided in a chair or throne which, originally 
destined for the salon of Joachim Murat, King of 
Naples, had cost ten thousand francs. 

In 1830 the Palais Royal was celebrated through- 
out the world ; it used jokingly to be said that 



192 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

even in China, then a distant and unknown country, 
rich merchants made appointments to meet each 
other in its joyous arcades. 

In the famous galeries de bois, which, in re- 
membrance of the Russian troops in Paris, were 
still called the Camp des Tartares and the Four 
aux Queux, was to be found a crowd of lightly- 
clad ladies of pleasure. Louis Philippe it was who 
demolished \\\\sgalerie and put the Galerie d'Orleans 
in its place ; he also it was who adopted drastic 
measures to drive away the numerous lights-of-love 
who congregated beneath its brilliantly illuminated 
glass roof. He instituted many other changes, 
which he intended as improvements, causing old 
signs to be removed and quaint inscriptions to be 
obliterated. The newly furbished and moralized 
Palais Royal, however, did not attract the public ; 
and when, as a final reform, the gaming-tables were 
suppressed in 1837, the pleasure-loving Parisians 
took a last farewell of the old place. By a 
gradual decay of its former splendour did the 
Palais Royal assume the woebegone appearance 
which it still wears to-day. 

From time to time various schemes have been 
mooted to revive the popularity of the Palais Royal. 
At the present time a proposal to move the 
Bourse to the centre of the gardens, where a huge 
pavilion is to be built, is under consideration. If it 
is carried out, this will once more import the spirit 
of speculation into its ancient haunt. The sup- 
pression of gaming was the final and real cause 
of its ruin. Gradually the fine shops closed their 
shutters, and the famous restaurants moved else- 




'J 



EARLY CLOSING 193 

where. As for mitigating the evils of speculation, 
there is now far more gambling in France than in 
the old days when the croupiers plied their rakes in 
the Palais Royal gaming-houses. Just outside 
Paris, at Enghien, is a huge gaming-establishment 
where anyone can play as much baccarat as he likes. 
The old-fashioned gambling, in comparison with 
this institution, was mere child's play. 

As a matter of fact, all talk about stamping 
out gaming is mere waste of breath in Paris ; the 
only way to mitigate its evils is by regulation. In 
this direction the French Government, it must be 
admitted, has achieved a fair measure of success, 
for, owing to the tax or percentage levied upon 
baccarat banks and bets on race-courses, a very 
large sum is now annually available for charitable 
purposes and for hospitals. 

From time to time attempts were made to intro- 
duce early-closing regulations somewhat resembling 
those under which we suffer in modern London. In 
November, 1858, for instance, the Prefect of Police 
issued a notice that all wine-shops, cafes, billiard- 
rooms, and other places of that description, both in 
Paris and in the environs, were to be closed at 
eleven o'clock at night all the year round, and not to 
be opened before six o'clock in the morning from 
October 15 to March 15, nor before sunrise from 
March 15 to October 15. No one was to be received 
or kept in the house after the hour of closing. The 
edict in question apparently soon became a dead 
letter, if indeed, any serious notice at all was ever 
taken of it. 

Louis Philippe — who in this manner, no doubt, 

13 



194 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

contributed to his own eventual undoing — was 
rather given to promoting measures of restriction. 
In his day people dined between five and six o'clock, 
and almost all the restaurants, even supper-places, 
were shut about twelve. As in modern London, 
the police interfered when revellers attempted to 
sit up after half-past twelve. This state of affairs, 
however, was never popular, and did not last long. 

At the beginning of the eighteenth century 
privileged persons alone could keep eating-houses in 
Paris. In 1765 a cook freed the public from this 
restraint, and, having prepared a room for refresh- 
ments, placed over the door the following parody 
of a passage in Scripture : " Venite ad me omnes 
qui stomacho laboratis, et ego restaurabo vos." 
This attempt was successful ; and afterwards, when 
the Revolution brought many strangers to Paris, 
and the domestic habits of the Parisians were 
altered, these establishments increased every year. 

One of the most celebrated restaurants of former 
days — the Cafe Hardy, subsequently the Maison 
Doree — ceased to exist not very many years ago. 
Hardy prided himself upon having invented the 
dejeuner a la fourchette, the name of which 
originated thus : 

From ten in the morning to three in tlie afternoon 
it was his habit to stand before a silver grill, which 
was one of the glories of his restaurant, and note 
what his clients wished to have cooked ^ — an appe- 
tizing number of viands being exposed to view on a 
buffet close by. The choice made. Hardy would 
plunge into the selected bird or piece of meat a 
fourchette which he held in his hand, and place 





65 S 



THE CAF^ DE PARIS 195 

the meat direct upon the grill. The remaining 
culinary operations were then conducted by a first- 
class dief. 

It used to be said that one had to be rich to dine 
at the Cafe Hardy, and " hardy " to dine at the Cafe 
Riche. At the latter place money alone was 
scarcely able to obtain a good dinner, the place 
being practically reserved for the fashionable throng 
which formed its clientele. Of course, anyone ready 
to pay could order a meal in the famous resort. 

Another fashionable resort was the Cafe de 
Paris, established in the lower story of Lady 
Hertford's house by Augilbert Fils, who paid her 
twenty thousand francs a year rent. Here, before 
the foundation of the French Jockey Club, all the 
arrangements for racing were made, a room being 
specially set apart for registering matches, appor- 
tioning weights, and the like. 

The Petit Cercle, founded by Lord Henry 
Seymour and his friends, met in this cafe, which 
was of course entirely different in character from 
the present very excellent establishment of the 
same name in the Avenue de I'Opera. 

The habitues of the old Cafe de Paris were great 
dandies, and cut a fine figure with their overflow- 
ing neckties and gold-headed canes. One of these, 
of great value, was abstracted by a cunning rascal 
in a curious manner. A cripple on crutches one 
day came up, and in a piteous tone begged of a 
dandy leaving the place. The dandy, moved to 
pity, gave the beggar a small silver coin. At the 
same moment a person near him suddenly ex- 
claimed : " How can you, sir, allow this rogue to 



196 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

deceive you ? Please to lend me your cane, and I 
will show you that the rascal runs better than I 
can." The dandy, without reflecting, lent his cane. 
The beggar, the moment he perceived it in his 
detractor's hand, threw away his crutches and took 
to his heels, and was followed by the man with the 
cane, whilst the spectators, and the dandy particu- 
larly, remained in convulsions of laughter at the 
sight, speculating who would run the fastest. The 
dandy, however, became sobered when he saw both 
the racing heroes disappear at the next turning of 
the street. It was all in vain that he remained 
waiting for his splendid cane, which had cost him 
several hundreds of francs. 

A curious character at this period was the 
Marquis de Saint Cricq, an eccentric character who 
used to go out driving in a carriage, leading his 
saddle-horse by a rein passed through the window. 
Another craze of his was to order post-horses to 
drive from his rooms in the Chaussee d'Antin to the 
Cafe Anglais. His escapades were notorious and 
occasionally disconcerting. Displeased with the 
public for applauding a play at the Theatre 
Francais, which he considered execrable, one wet 
evening he went out before the end and hired 
every cab he could find outside ; he then returned 
and sat out the rest of the piece in great glee, well 
satisfied, as he said, with the certainty that most 
of the audience, except himself, would be soaked to 
the skin. At restaurants he played all sorts of 
tricks, often furtively filling his coffee with salt and 
complaining to the proprietor that it had been 
tampered with. It was no uncommon thing for 



PARISIAN CHARACTERS 197 

him to eat his dinner with a salad-bowl on his head, 
all the while maintaining an attitude of the greatest 
gravity. During one summer he considerably 
astonished diners at the Cafe Anglais by eating 
vast quantities of strawberries, alternately powder- 
ing them and his head with sugar from a large 
castor which he had set before him. One day 
he appeared at Tortoni's with a long string of 
carriages following him, ordered three ices, ate one, 
and put the other two in his boots, which he had 
taken off for the purpose. 

Another vivem^ of less eccentric character was 
Nestor Roqueplan, a good fencer, who always wore 
his hat at an extraordinary angle, and in his costume 
favoured an exaggeration of the prevailing fashion. 

A more clever man of pleasure was Roger de 
Beau voir, whom cynics called " a man of the world 
amongst writers, and a writer amongst men of the 
world." He had first attained celebrity on the 
boulevards through a book, " L'Ecolier de Cluny," 
which he had written when twenty-four years old ; 
and he added to his fame by the curious costume 
which he affected. Lovhig bright colours, he 
sported a blue coat with brass buttons, yellow 
waistcoat, and pearl-grey trousers. Indoors his 
costume was even more extraordinary, recalling the 
morning " get-up " worn by heroes in old farces. 
His friends generally found him breakfasting in a 
green silk dressing-gown covered with gold braid, 
and pantaloons of red cashmere. 

Though very popular, he had one great social fault : 
this was his habit of asking people to dinner, and 
then forgetting to turn up himself. As, however, 



198 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

he was almost always to be found at either the 
Cafe de Paris, the Cafe Anglais, or the Maison 
Dor^e, no great inconvenience ensued. 

At this period the greatest viveur in Paris was 
Lord Henry Seymour, founder and first President 
of the French Jockey Club. English by parentage, 
he was born, lived, and died in France, where he 
became noted amongst the Parisians of his day for 
his sporting escapades and regal extravagance. 

A multi-millionaire, it was declared that he 
loved to punch people's heads, and then heal their 
wounds by the timely application of bank-notes. 
" Milord Arsouille," as he was nicknamed, was also 
reputed to be fond of organizing unrestrained 
parties of pleasure ; in reality, however, the majority 
of the extraordinary stories told about him were 
purely imaginary, his whole energies being con- 
centrated upon sport. 

Boxing, racing, and driving were his hobbies. He 
could not bear to be distanced by anyone, and on 
one occasion, when he had had the audacity to race 
and pass the carriage of Charles X, he was only 
saved from being expelled from France owing to 
very powerful influence being exercised on his 
behalf. 

He won a remarkable bet against an Englishman 
named Embury, well known for his feats of driving. 
This was the exactly following in a brake with four 
horses the turns and circles made by the latter in a 
one-horse chaise. So exactly did Lord Henry per- 
form this difficult task that his wheels passed right 
over the track formed by those of his opponent's 
carriage. 



% 




A SMART TURN-OUT. 



LORD HENRY SEYMOUR 199 

Though most of the stories of his escapades were 
inventions, he was undoubtedly consumed by an 
insatiable passion to be first in everything he under- 
took. It is said that he even took the greatest 
pains to master some grammatical curiosities of the 
French language in order to be able to win bets 
about the orthography of certain expressions and 
words. As a whip he was always wanting to pass 
everybody ; he is said to have spent over 100,000 
francs in trotting-horses in order to be able to 
distance a particularly fast team, which he often 
met and never could beat. 

Though a charitable man, his ear was seldom 
open to the numerous appeals which reached it. 
He liked to select the objects of his bounty himself. 
A beggar covered with nothing but rags, who 
chanced to cross his path, or some poor girl en- 
countered upon the boulevard, had a pretty good 
chance of obtaining relief. His name, however, 
seldom figured on fashionable subscriptions for 
charities. 

Meeting a miserable individual who had once 
been well off, Lord Henry took him to Tortoni's. 
*' I bet you ten louis," said he, '* you will not eat ten 
ices mixed together in a salad-bowl." The poor man 
took the bet, and though he suffered some of the 
tortures inflicted in the JMiddle Ages upon prisoners 
who would not speak, he won his 200 francs. 

Some of Lord Henry's jokes were of a repulsive 
nature, and revealed the man's innate brutality. 
When, for instance, he hired the house of a well- 
known French literary man for a year, paying some- 
thing under £1,000, he said to him, " Your goldfish " 



200 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

(there was a small aquarium) " belong to me, I 
suppose ?" " Certainly," was the reply. Two days 
later the landlord, being invited to lunch with Lord 
Henry, was half astonished, half annoyed, to be 
told that a dish he was beginning to eat had been 
made out of these pretty creatures. When he 
protested, his host said : " You told me the gold- 
fish were mine ; well, as crayfish become red when 
cooked, I was curious to see if goldfish become 
white. Besides, I did not want to be bothered 
with the trouble of looking after your aquarium for 
a whole year ; at the end of my lease I will re-stock 
it for you." 

His behaviour to women was occasionally very 
cruel. Speaking to one of his mistresses, he said : 
" Darling creature, put my boots outside my door 
for me ; they will return the compliment and do 
the same for you some day, I have no doubt !" 

Certain of his pleasantries were of a very rough 
description. An unpleasant practical joke of his 
was to put an irritating powder, which caused the 
victim to itch all over, upon people's clothes. A 
more dangerous piece of folly was distributing 
explosive cigars, which, after having been lit for a 
short time, burst with a bang in the smoker's face. 
Lord Henry is also credited with having, after the 
example of Louis XI, on more than one occasion 
introduced drugs into other people's food, causing 
very unpleasant and awkward effects. 

Owing to the very independent and original life 
led by Lord Henry, all sorts of ridiculous stories 
and legends were invented about him. The most 
absurd of these was his supposed love of taking part 




LA BATTUT 201 

in the carnival, in which it was declared that he 
drove in fancy dress, surrounded by a number of 
women in masks and eccentric costumes. " Vive 
Lord Seymour ! vive Milord Arsouille !" cried the 
crowd when they caught sight of this strange 
equipage, from which coins were freely thrown. 

The real author of these eccentric proceedings 
was not Lord Henry Seymour at all, but the 
individual named Charles de la Battut, who has 
already been mentioned on page 183. The main 
cause of his extravagant conduct was an almost 
insane desire to push his way into fashionable 
society. 

Count D'Orsay was an idol to this man, who 
attempted to copy his dress and ways to a quite 
pathetic extent. Nevertheless, though his lavish 
generosity attracted some needy young men of the 
gay world, he never succeeded in entering the social 
circles to which he aspired, and, by the irony of fate, 
gained no notoriety by his extravagances during 
the carnival and at other times, all his eccentricities 
being attributed to Lord Henry, who heartily hated 
and despised them. 

From 1832 to 1835 the fantastic carriage full of 
maskers figured at every carnival, in spite of constant 
contradiction. Lord Henry being always supposed 
to be its owner. La Battut was miserable at failing 
to achieve the notoriety he desired. His efforts, 
however, were vain ; and do what he would to attract 
attention, very much to his disgust the credit, if 
there was any, was always given to the English 
milord. 

Having spent all his money in vain, poor La 



202 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

Battut eventually retired to Naples, where he died, 
more or less ruined, in sadness and obscurity. 

In the house which Lord Henry Seymour occu- 
pied, the whole of one floor had been converted 
into a gymnasium, and here boxing and fencing 
filled up any spare hours which the owner or his 
friends found hanging heavily upon their hands. 

The owner, owing to the severe training to which 
he occasionally subjected himself, had developed 
enormous biceps, and was able to hold his own with 
some professional boxers. The joke of all this was 
that, though practically devoted to sport in an age 
when it was supposed to be the peculiar prov- 
ince of Englishmen alone, Lord Henry probably 
had but a minute portion of English blood in his 
veins. His mother. Lady Hertford, was Maria 
Fagnani before her marriage, and had an Italian 
mother. 

The marriage took place at Southampton. Ill- 
natured rumours said that Lord Yarmouth, the 
third Lord Hertford (Thackeray's Lord Steyne), 
not being of age, the young lady took his word for 
the performance of the marriage contract, .having 
previously given his lordship a pledge of her 
affection by the introduction of a little stranger 
into the world. 

In 1803 Lord Yarmouth was detained as an 
English prisoner at Verdun. During this time, 
besides, it is said, showing very assiduous atten- 
tion to all the most attractive of the local ladies, 
he indulged in much high play, not altogether 
to his own disadvantage. On one occasion he 
created a considerable sensation by winning some 




LADY HERTFORD 203 

£12,000 at a gaming-house. Meanwhile his 
wife, Lady Yarmouth, according to common 
report, was consoling herself with Montrond, a 
man of pleasure who was notorious for his con- 
quests amongst the fair sex. Montrond was not 
rich, but, owing to his friendship with Talleyrand, 
M'as able to do pretty much as he liked. He was a 
great dandy, and many tried to copy him. His 
dress, his debts, his mistresses, and his duels excited 
great interest in the world of pleasure. 

Lady Yarmouth spent a good deal of money in 
Paris, where she was well known ; and when her 
son was born it was almost openly said that Count 
Casimir de Montrond was the child's father. Be 
this as it may, it is certain that Lord Henry 
Seymour, both morally and physically, greatly re- 
sembled the dashing and seductive Frenchman who 
for a time had captivated Napoleon's sister, the 
beautiful Pauline Borghese. 

Lord Hertford evidently had his doubts, for 
when he died he only left Lord Henry a travelling- 
carriage and a shilling. The latter, however, in- 
herited a very large fortune from his mother. As 
was cynically said, she had had the immense 
advantage of having had two fathers, both " Old 
Q " and George Selwyn having left a great deal of 
money to their darling " Mie-Mie," each believing 
himself to be her father. 

Lord Henry must have had a good idea of his 
real parentage, for he never showed the least desire 
to set foot in England, and it would appear that he 
seldom, if ever, set eyes upon Lord Hertford, 
in whom he manifested no interest. A curious 



204 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

point of resemblance with Montrond was his caustic 
and cynical humour. Though the latter could be 
charming and seductive with the fair sex, no man 
could equal him in saying cold and heartless things. 
One day, when the gay Frenchman was waiting 
dinner for a friend, a messenger arrived, saying the 
latter had fallen down dead. For a few minutes 
Montrond walked about showing signs of violent 
distress. After a short time, however, he sat down 
to dinner, to which he proceeded to do full justice. 
'*What a relief!" he exclaimed. "I was much 
disturbed lest this bad news should have spoilt my 
appetite." 

In his old age Montrond was by special per- 
mission allowed to keep a private gaming-house, to 
which people flocked, not only to play roulette and 
" creps," but also to hear the reminiscences of the 
proprietor, who, although a shrunken and withered 
old man, was still one of the most witty and enter- 
taining talkers in Europe. 

Dressed in the fashion of his gay youth and 
sitting in an armchair, the old man would dwell 
with satisfaction upon the charms of the many 
beautiful ladies he had known and loved. Cynical 
and shameless, there was, nevertheless, a great air 
of distinction about him. One of the few survivors 
of an age which had passed away, his Voltairean 
philosophy and frankly sensual outlook upon life 
was rendered agreeable by the grace and refinement 
of his diction. 

Though he had jeered at the death-bed recon- 
ciliation of Talleyrand with the Catholic Church, 
Montrond followed the example thus set, for when 



ANGLOMANIA 205 

the old roue and viveu7^ died in 1843 he yielded his 
last breath in all the odour of sanctity with a priest 
by his side. His reputed son, though a man of 
pleasure, did one thing for France that is well worth 
remembering. 

In the reign of Louis XV, when Anglomanie 
was the fashion, there was a great deal of horse- 
racing in France, though the King was led to for- 
bid the sport in consequence of an incident reported 
by Horace Walpole, who writes to the Rev. W. Cole 
(February 28, 1766) : " To-day I have been to the 
Plaine de Sablons, by the Bois de Boulogne, to see 
a horse-race rid in person by Count Lauraguais 
and Lord Forbes." The Count's horse died, and 
was, of course, said by the French to have been 
poisoned (? by the English stable people) ; but the 
Count himself is stated to have "quacked" the 
poor brute. This was the Count Lauraguais who 
was so well known (and disliked) at Newmarket ; 
who purchased the famous English horse Gimcrack, 
and raced that celebrated horse both in England 
and in France; who was brother to two of the King's 
many mistresses ; and who was responsible for one 
of the King's many witticisms. Said the King to 
Lauraguais: " What have you been doing all this 
while in England ?" " Sire," answered Lauraguais, 
*' I have been learning how to think (penser)." 
" Learning how to groom (panser), you mean," 
rejoined the King. In the same reign the Duke 
de Lauzun (a nephew of the Duke de Biron, whose 
descendant, Duke de Gontaut- Biron, was President 
of the French Jockey Club from 1851 to 1883) ran 
horses in England (Taster, by Sweepstakes, and 



206 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

Patrician, by Matchem, for instance, in 1773). In 
this reign, too, the Marquis de Fitzjames went 
with Guerchy (the French Ambassador), and Lord 
March (" Old Q") to Newmarket, which he "Hked, 
and everybody Hked him." In fact, Newmarket 
about this time was positively infested by French- 
men, insomuch that Lord Carlisle wrote to Selwyn 
in 1768 : "I pity my Newmarket friends who are 
to be bored by those Frenchmen " ; and, according 
to Horace Walpole, the celebrated sportsman 
Mr. Hugo Meynell took it so much to heart that 
he said with grim humour, " He wished the peace 
were all over, and we were comfortably at war 
again." 

Napoleon I, with the idea of improving the 
horses of his cavalry, made some attempt to 
encourage racing in and about Paris ; but it was 
reserved for Lord Henry to be the father of the 
French Turf, which to-day is in such a flourishing 
condition. Though he had many difficulties to 
contend with, he devoted much energy and money 
to the development of French racing. He was 
principal founder and first President of the Societe 
d'Encouragement, and his orange jacket and black 
cap gained many triumphs upon the early race- 
courses around Paris. His racing stable for those 
days cost an enormous sum. 

In 1840, however, his horse Jenny was beaten 
in the Prix du Jockey Club by Tontine, belonging 
to M. Aumont, whereupon Lord Henry became 
violently incensed, declaring that the winner was 
not the real Tontine, but a substituted horse. An 
investigation proved the falsehood of this charge, 



THE FRENCH TURF 207 

but with characteristic temper the EngHsh noble- 
man (who, in reahty, was probably not English at 
all) refused to own that he was wrong. He brought 
the matter before the law-courts, and was again 
defeated, after which he sold nearly all his thorough- 
breds and severed his connection with the French 
Turf. His abandonment of French racing was 
bitterly deplored ; and most sportsmen thought 
that the sport was doomed. Some of the Parisian 
papers openly declared that this was the end of a 
form of sport which could not be acclimatized in 
France. No one dreamt of the magnificent race- 
courses, such as Auteuil, Longchamps, St. Cloud, 
and others, which, well arranged and managed, are 
such pleasant and flourishing places to-day. The 
old-fashioned racing of Lord Henry's day, run on 
ill-suited courses like the Champ de Mars, was the 
amusement of a few dandies. At the present time 
the French Turf is freely supported by the people. 
Year by year it grows in popularity. In this 
instance, at least, democracy has perfected what 
aristocracy began. 

Lord Henry Seymour died, as he had lived, on 
French soil. In 1848, owing to the Revolution, he 
betook himself, with his mother. Lady Hertford, to 
Boulogne (the nearest point to his own country he 
was ever to reach), and here they remained for a 
considerable time. As an old man he lost all interest 
in the sports and athletics which had been the 
engrossing hobbies of his life. He became 
enormously fat, and, having drunk the cup of 
enjoyment to the dregs, seemed to relinquish 
all care for its replenishing. He died in 1859, 



208 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

leaving a will which, though from one point of view 
it was laudable enough, was yet distinguished by 
that spirit of caustic cynicism for which he had been 
renowned. Almost all his large fortune was left to 
hospitals in London and Paris. A certain sum 
was to be set aside to insure a comfortable old age 
to nine of his horses ; and four women by whom he 
had had children received something — but not very 
much. His brother, Lord Hertford, and his old 
servants, some of whom had been with him for 
thirty years, got nothing at all. He left directions 
that no invitations were to be issued for his funeral, 
and only eight persons accompanied the body of 
this man of pleasure to its last resting-place in 
Pere-Lachaise. 



CHAPTER IX 

FAMOUS " VIVEURS " — MABILLE — POMARE GRA- 

MONT-CADEROUSSE HORTENSE SCHNEIDER 

Whilst the men of pleasure of the eighteenth 
century were very exclusive as to whom they ad- 
mitted into their circle, there were a certain number 
of privileged adventurers who, owing to their wit, 
knowledge of the world, and charm, were allowed to 
mix with them on terms almost of equality. 

The chief of these, of course, was Casanova, who, 
driving about the Continent in a gorgeous coach, 
generally received a warm welcome in pleasure- 
loving circles. This, no doubt, was largely owing 
to the fact that at most of his halts he used to 
set up a bank, against which all the rank and 
fashion could play. It is curious in this connection 
to notice that he does not appear to have accumu- 
lated any very large sum by his gaming, the reason 
of which, I suppose, was that at heart he was a 
bigger gambler than any of his clients. What 
he won in one way he lost in another. 

As a boon companion this extraordinary ad- 
venturer seems to have been unequalled. His 
vivacity and good -humour procured him easy 
admittance to the highest society, in an age when 
its barriers rigorously excluded most people of any- 
thing else than aristocratic birth. 

209 14 



210 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

Another cause of his social success was his 
strength of character and courage. Living in a 
time when a man of pleasure could scarcely go 
anywhere without being ready to fight a duel for 
a word which might be interpreted as a slight, 
his hand was ever ready to fly to his rapier. Few 
accordingly ventured, openly at least, to criticize 
some of his many rather doubtful methods. 

Though much abuse has been showered upon the 
old French noblesse, there is no doubt that a 
number of the nobles of pre-revolutionary France 
were fine, dashing men, overflowing with vitality, 
courage, and life. 

The aristocrat was not infrequently something 
more than a mere slave of indolent and vicious 
habits. In many cases, it is true, he was a 
sanguine votary of pleasure, a princely epicure, and 
indulged and revelled in boundless luxury while 
he could ; but, notwithstanding the fact that his 
soul was often inured to voluptuousness and sat- 
urated with delights, pain and danger, when they 
came, gave him neither concern nor dread. Though 
love and pleasure were so much to him, in many 
cases, animated with a graceful old-world bravery, 
he went forth to battle as to a dance. 

The creed of such a one was, perhaps, best voiced 
by Herrick, who, in some lines " To Sappho," 
wrote : 

" Let us now take time and play, 
Love and live here as we may ; 
Drink rich wine and make good cheer. 
While we have our being here ; 
For once dead and laid i"" th' grave, 
No return from thence we have." 



THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 211 

This, like the well-known " Let us eat and drink, 
for to-morrow we die," contains the principle 
which has guided so many hedonists avid of facile 
pleasure — men who made it their rule never to 
trouble about two days — " the day that has not yet 
come, and the day that is past." 

Many a brave spirit, while enjoying life like 
a true fighter, triumphed also in death ; and, 
whether in prosperous or adverse circumstances, 
ever showed himself proudly disdainful of mis- 
fortune. 

The age to which the man of pleasure was essen- 
tially suited was the eighteenth century — a period 
most tolerant to everything connected with dis- 
sipation. 

What a sight must have been the Promenade 
de Longchamps ! It had been found that the 
setting-in of the spring fashions might be fitly made 
to coincide with the eve of Easter ; and every year, 
during three days in Passion Week, there was an in- 
cessant cavalcade of princes, nobles, hankers, fer??iiers- 
gen&auoL\ strangers of distinction, and the ladies 
then known as ruineuses, to Longchamps. It 
became, not a Ladies' Mile, but a Ladies' League. 
The equipages of the grandest dames of the Court 
of Versailles locked wheels with the chariots of 
La Duthe and La Guimard ; and history tells us 
that the ruineuses made, as a rule, a much more 
splendid appearance than did the grandes dames. 
The Duchess of Valentinois was not, however, to be 
put down by ces creatures. In the spring of 1780 
Her Grace appeared at the Promenade de Long- 
champs in a carriage of which the panels were com- 



212 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

posed of superbly-painted Sevres porcelain. This 
china coach was drawn by six mottled-grey horses, 
with harness of crimson silk embroidered with 
silver. A famous ruineuse, La Morphise, an actress 
" protected " by Louis XV (her son by her royal 
protector — Beaufranchet, Comte d'Oyat — was after- 
wards present as Chief of the Staff of the Army of 
Paris at the execution of Louis XVI), endeavoured 
to outshine the Duchess of the porcelain coach. 
She was unable to procure any china panels from the 
Royal manufactory at Sevres, but she had the sides 
and back of her carriage made of the finest mar- 
queterie in brass-work and tortoise-shell. Her 
horses were black, with harness of crimson velvet 
and gold. The equipage would have been a success, 
had not the coachman of the Swedish Minister run 
the pole of his chariot through one of the panels of 
the tortoise-shell coach. The fiasco was complete ; 
the crowd began to jeer, and tlie discomfited 
Morphise drove home lamenting. 

All this was very frivolous ; but in spite of the 
selfish and material outlook upon life which pre- 
vailed, in spite of a good deal of vice and brutality, 
the eighteenth century produced many splendid 
men ; and even the bucks and dandies were not infre- 
quently individuals of strong character, ready to 
meet misfortune, or even death, with superb courage. 

The final incarnation of this type was the gallant 
Due de Lauzun. He combined refined cultivation 
and conspicuous personal charm with a naive sel- 
fishness and unparalleled efFronteiy. As a lover, he 
seems to have met with unchecked success, and it 
has been said that one might as well have attempted 



LAUZUN 213 

to count the trees in a forest, the clouds in the 
sky, or the birds in the air, as to enumerate his 
many amorous adventures. To a great degree 
bereft of moral sense, Lauzun, in some measure, 
rendered his gallantries more pardonable by the 
romance and refinement which he contrived to im- 
port into even the most ordinary of them. In a 
number of instances, indeed, he inspired fanatical 
devotion. He it was who brought romance into 
fashion at the Court of Marie Antoinette. While 
the morals of this gallant man of pleasure were 
of a kind which stern critics must disapprove, he 
had many charming qualities. A staunch and 
true friend, he was also courageous to the verge 
of being foolhardy, while as a lover no one was ever 
more tender or passionate. To the world in general 
he was generous and considerate, while constantly 
exhibiting signs of the wit and brilliant intellect 
which his intimates appreciated in such a high 
degree. Fersen, who knew Lauzun well, said that 
his friend possessed the most noble and elevated 
intelligence of anyone he had ever met. 

The reputation of Lauzun as a man renowned for 
his amours and his wit gained for him the favour of 
the unfortunate Queen, who was much attracted 
by the stories she had heard of his many adven- 
tures. Before long she found his amiable and 
amusing companionship so captivating that he 
became a sort of Royal favourite, though in all 
probability the relations between the charming 
officer and his Queen were never anything but 
purely platonic. Nevertheless, there was a time 
when almost every day the two went for long rides 



214 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

in the woods of Boulogne and Verrieres — a member 
of the Royal suite was, of course, always in attend- 
ance, but its members possessed the requisite tact to 
draw rein and let the Queen and her favourite get 
well ahead whenever any hint was given. 

His liaisons were innumerable ; both ladies and 
lights-of-love had a great attraction for him. At 
one time he nearly became the lover of the famous 
Jeanne Vaubernier, so well known to posterity as 
Madame du Barry. The girl was at that time 
scarcely more than eighteen years of age, but 
already her beauty had gained her the nickname of 
" I'Ange." Though no one foresaw that she was 
to hold in her hand the destinies of France, she 
was celebrated amongst the fashionable viveurs of 
Paris, amongst whom she had captured many hearts. 
No young sprig of aristocracy, says a contemporary, 
could afford not to have entertained her at supper 
at least once. At the time when Lauzun met 
her, she was drawing considerable sums from the 
Treasurer of the French Navy, M. de St. Foix, 
but soon, weary of the liaison, he became only 
too ready to hand her over to someone else. 

Lauzun went to supper at the fair one's house, 
but for some reason or other she did not continue 
to attract him ; and the relations between the two 
never developed into anything beyond a platonic 
acquaintance. 

When, during the terrible days of the Terror, 
Lauzun found himself condemned to die, he faced 
the prospect of being guillotined with the greatest 
equanimity. 

Not only did Lauzun know how to live, but 




THE GREAT VOYAGE 215 

he knew how to die, for when the death sentence 
was communicated to him, he merely smiled. The 
whole of the day which followed, and the next 
morning, he ate and slept just as if nothing out of 
the ordinary had happened. To have shown greater 
composure would have been impossible. When 
at last the executioner came to fetch him, the 
prisoner was just beginning to eat a dozen oysters. 

" I hope, citoye?i" said Lauzun, " that you will 
let me finish them." At the same time he offered 
the man a glass of wine, adding that, considering 
his calling, he must have need of a good deal of 
courage. Then, turning to the other prisoners 
present, he said : " Gentlemen, all is over. I am 
starting on the great voyage." 

A few minutes later, having left the Conciergerie 
in the fatal tumbril, the brilliant pleasure-seeker 
of other days was on his way to the scaffold. 
It was a cheerless, miserable evening, and the few 
people who were out of doors paid little attention 
to the sorrowful procession. Not one of them 
realized that the individual being led to his fate 
was the incarnation of all the graces and seductions 
of his age. After having been one of the happiest 
and most loved men in the world, and having drunk 
the cup of pleasure to its dregs, he seemed to 
welcome death as a deliverer from an existence 
which could offer him nothing more. His ex- 
pression, as he delivered himself into the execu- 
tioner's hands, was one of dignified disgust ; none 
of the many victims of the Revolution ever went 
to their doom with greater self-possession or calm. 
His attitude from the moment of arrest had 



S16 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

been one of extreme nonchalance ; he had scorned 
to say anything in his own defence — as he said 
to one of his fellow-prisoners, the Terrorists had 
bored him too much already. Besides, he knew 
that they were going to cut off his head, and that 
would end everything. 

Though essentially a man of pleasure, Lauzun 
appears to have had literary tastes, for he left 
some memoirs behind him. 

In 1811, the police of the Emperor Napoleon 
became aware that a manuscript left by Lauzun, 
which would probably cause great scandal, was 
about to be printed and published. Accordingly 
it was decided that the said manuscript should be 
seized and burnt ; but before these extreme 
measures were carried out. Queen Hortense, who 
manifested great curiosity as to their contents, con- 
trived to secure them. During the few days for 
which they were in her possession, she had them 
hastily copied, and the original memoirs were then 
reduced to ashes before the eyes of the Emperor 
himself. In 1821 appeared the first edition of the 
" Memoirs of Lauzun," printed from the manuscript 
which had been prepared for the mother of 
Napoleon III. Great scandal was occasioned by 
many of the statements dealing with survivors 
of the old regime. Some of these survivors made 
violent protests, with the result that the edition 
was finally confiscated. Amongst the most indig- 
nant was the celebrated Madame de Genlis, who 
declared that the whole of the memoirs were 
spurious ; but the general opinion seems now to be 
that Lauzun really did write the recollections which 



PHRYNE 217 

aroused so much outraged comment. The con- 
tention that no man of honour, such as Lauzun, 
would have put down on paper the adventures 
of gallantry with which the narrative abounds 
cannot be considered as a serious reason for castinsf 
doubt upon the authenticity of these memoirs, for, 
as all students of that bygone era are aware, the 
nobles of the ancien regime saw no harm in detail- 
ing their moral indiscretions. Little importance 
was attached by their contemporaries to weaknesses 
of such a kind ; and in addition to this, the ladies 
of whom Lauzun spoke so lightly had already lost 
all claim to virtue. Most of them, in fact, had 
figured in numerous scandals about which the whole 
of France had heard ; and it would have been diffi- 
cult to damage the reputation which they regarded 
as smirched by Lauzun. It is, however, highly 
probable that these memoirs, carelessly set down 
and hastily composed, were merely written to amuse 
some mistress, and were never intended to meet 
the eyes of posterity at all. 

In the days when France responded to the call to 
arms, and the Convention hurled defiance at the 
monarchs of Europe, facile pleasure and illicit love 
ran riot in Paris. Phryne reigned supreme in the 
galleries of the Palais Royal, while, though the 
old order had passed away, the man of pleasure 
continued to flourish. 

In spite of the claims to Spartan austerity which 
some of the leaders of the Revolution put forward, 
dissipation was just as common as in the days of 
the old regime. 

Under the First Empire much the same state of 



218 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

affairs prevailed. Napoleon was not very fond of 
the Puritan soldier, but he discouraged extrava- 
gance amongst his officers, which was often no 
easy task. Not infrequently many of them, when 
they were not fighting, were the absolute slaves 
of reckless pleasure. 

A young soldier, having distinguished himself at 
the Battle of Bautzen, attracted the attention of 
the Emperor. The latter shortly afterwards sent 
him a Captain's commission in the regiment which, 
but a short time before, he had entered as a 
conscript, together with an order for several 
thousand francs to defray the expenses of his 
equipment. The young soldier, nearly wild with 
delight, at once plunged into every sort of extrava- 
gance. Entering an inn soon after his promotion, 
he tore from his finger a gold ring and from 
his side a gold watch, and throwing them to the 
landlord, requested that each of his comrades who 
should visit the house that day might be regaled at 
his expense. He compelled all around him to drink 
a large glass of wine to the health of the Emperor ; 
they congratulated him upon his good-fortune, and 
admired la finesse du Petit Caporal in giving him 
such a distinguished post in the very regiment in 
which he had commenced his career. A few days 
afterwards he gave his comrades a ball, on which 
was probably expended the greater part of his 
equipment money ; but at that time money was 
lightly regarded, each individual living only for the 
present. Not unnaturally, perhaps, the future gave 
little concern to men who knew not if it would 
exist for them. 




tf £P 



MABILLE 219 

From the days of Napoleon to the Second 
Empire, Parisians, except at the time of the carnival 
and on certain fete-days, seem to have led a some- 
what humdrum life. Charles X became religious 
in his old age, a fact which indirectly caused the loss 
of his crown. 

At this period comparatively few English people 
were in the habit of visiting Paris. Not un- 
naturally the journey deterred many ; the Channel 
had then to be crossed in a small steamboat, and 
if the tide was against it on arrival off Boulogne, 
the rudder had to be fixed, and the ship kept six or 
seven hours at the mercy of the waves, and often 
of a tolerably stiffish breeze. 

The railway was, of course, a great boon. 
Before it was made, the journey in a diligence to 
Paris was tedious and uncomfortable to a degree. 
The stage out of Amiens was especially bad, all 
sorts of stops being frequent. Just before railroads 
came in, however, things greatly improved. 

Parisians' amusements were not at their best 
during the reign of the citizen King; but public 
balls flourished. 

According to fashion, these were frequented by 
grisettes and students, by lorettes and men of 
pleasure. 

One of the favourite resorts of the former class 
was La Chaumiere, where all sorts of queer dances, 
such as Le Robert Macaire, were danced ; whilst 
Mabille and Bullier were more fashionable. 

Mabille, founded by a dancing-master of that 
name, enjoyed great popularity till some thirty 
years ago, when, the ground it occupied being 



220 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

wanted for building purposes, its place was taken 
by the still existing Jardin de Paris. 

In the days of Louis Philippe, dancing at Mabille 
only took place three times a week — on Sundays, 
Mondays, and Thursdays. The original price 
charged for admission was fifty centimes, but when 
the place became a success this was raised to two 
francs. 

In 1844 crowds were attracted to Mabille by 
the appearance of a new dancer, nicknamed " La 
Reine Pomare," who created an even greater sensa- 
tion than did the famous "Rigolboche" under 
the Second Empire. The real name of Pomare 
was Elise Sergent. She had never been trained to 
dance ; but, nevertheless, on her first appearance 
she created a furore. 

Together with another grisette who was to 
become celebrated as Rose Pompon, she strolled 
into the gardens, and danced with such grace and 
abandon that she was rapturously cheered. She at 
once became the rage, and people climbed on the 
top of each other to see her dance the polka amidst 
much applause and stamping. 

After the polka came the waltzes and the 
quadrilles, called the " Mabiliennes." All the stars 
of the garden had their small share of success, but 
the honours of the evening went to Queen Pomare. 
Anonymous rivals sought in vain to usurp her 
throne ; but her regal state rested upon talent, and 
was invulnerable. 

Though she had first gone to Mabille in the 
humble attire of a grisette, Pomare soon blossomed 
out into extravagant costumes. She was usually 




POMAR^ 221 

dressed in white or black, her wrists loaded with 
fantastic bracelets, and her throat encircled by 
barbarous jewels. She brought into her dress a 
savage taste which justified the name which had 
been given her. She was now a regular feature of 
the place, and when she danced, a circle was formed 
round her, and the most impassioned dancers 
stopped to admire her in silence. 

Some verses about this dancer set to music 
became very popular ; 

" O Pomare, ma jeune et folle reine, 
Garde longtemps la verve qui fentraine, 
Sois de nos bals longtemps la souveraine, 

Et que Musard 

Palisse a ton regard. 

" Pare de fleurs, ton trone chez Mabille 
A pour soutiens tons lesjoyeux viveurs; 
Mieux vaut cent fois regner la que sur Tile * 
Ou vont cesser de Hotter nos couleurs. 
Aux yeux de tous, la polka rajeunie 
Vient chaque soir attester ton genie, 
Et plus gaiement que dans TOceanie 
Tu vois Pamour 
Renouveler ta cour. . . ." 

Poor Pomare did not long enjoy her triumph. 
She had a weak constitution, and was quite unfitted 
for a life of dissipation. Her end was sad and 
miserable, and she died of consumption at the age 
of twenty-one. Another celebrated dancer. Celeste 
JNIogador, one of her friends, was more fortunate. 
She married and lived to a good old age. 

* Tahiti, to the Queen of which island Mdlle. Sergent was 
supposed to bear some resemblance ; this was the origin of her 
nickname of Pomare. 



222 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

Those were the days of the Boheme about which 
Murger wrote so well. 

Naturally enough, during this author's lifetime 
serious people were rather by way of disapproving 
of him. Once he was dead, however, eulogistic 
articles appeared from the pen of critics who, when 
he was alive, had done nothing but abuse him. 

Speaking of this, a cynic said that it reminded 
him of a clever saying of Voltaire : " Nothing 
changes a man's style so much as his death." 

One of the favourite resorts of the students of 
whom Murger wrote was the Prado. This ball- 
room was composed of two halls, one of which 
was raised, and here the grisettes, without hats 
and simply dressed, assembled ; the other was 
chosen by the women most grandly dressed in silks 
and wearing the largest crinolines — Maria of the 
blue eyes, Colomba with the brown hair, Brunette, 
Pomponnette, Pochardinette — in a word, the whole 
aristocracy of the Quartier Latin. These two 
feminine assemblies never mingled, and the three 
or four steps which separated the two halls were 
equal as a barrier to the widest moat or the 
thickest Chinese wall — equality, in spite of dema- 
gogues, being found nowhere, not even amongst 
students ! 

At the Prado nearly the whole of the French 
Bar and Medical Fraternity made their first cam- 
paigns, and it is there that they spent the most 
joyous hours of their lives, for the place was full of 
animation. 

In 1859 the Prado was demohshed in order to 
make way for the Boulevard de Sebastopol. 



BULLIER^S 223 

" Oh, my youth, it is you that is being buried !" 
said Rodolph in the " Vie de Boheme," when he saw 
death take away his poor Mimi. 

" Oh, my youth, it is you that is being de- 
moHshed !" cried many young men on the day when 
the pick destroyed the Prado. 

But though they were at first inconsolable, they 
soon rallied from the blow, and shouted — 

" Le Prado est mort, vive la 
Closerie des Lilas." 

The Closerie des Lilas, or Bullier's, as it was 
also called from the name of its proprietor, soon 
attained great popularity. Besides students, lorettes, 
and grisettes, literary men were to be seen there. It 
became quite the fashion for the girls to affect a 
literary tone ; some of those Juliets of a night 
would even show their Romeos plays and novels 
which they declared they had written. 

It was during the forties of the last century that 
the Cafe Concert first began to come into favour 
with the Parisians. 

In 1840, what is now the Cafe des Ambassadeurs 
was the Cafe du Bosquet, nicknamed " Le Concert 
a la Corde," in allusion to the cord which separated 
the audience from the orchestra. It was at that 
time much less closed in than is at present the case. 
Even twenty-five years ago the crowd which 
assembled outside, peering through the foliage, 
were able to get a glimpse of the entertainment. 
The roofing-over of the Ambassadeurs is a modern 
innovation. 

With the advent of Napoleon III to power, 



224 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

JMabille came more than ever to the front. 
During the Second Empire it was thronged with 
all the most fashionable men in Paris and the fair 
ones they adored. For hundreds of yards outside 
the garden the roadway was choked by splendid 
private equipages. Grooms and commissionaires 
ran hither and thither ; scrgents de ville shouted 
in strident tones as the sly little coupe of some 
INIinister drew up to convey his Excellency and 
some sumptuously clad and outrageously bejewelled 
charmer to supper in a private room at the Cafe 
Anglais or Maison d'Or. 

The latter restaurant was then in a most 
flourishing state. Here it was that the Duke of 
Hamilton met his death by falling down the stairs, 
the recollection of which tragedy, it is said, pre- 
vented his son, the late Duke, so well known in 
Paris, from even entering the place. 

At the Maison Doree the cabinet pai'ticulier 
numbered six was in great request with those who 
supped in joyous society ; but No. 6 never achieved 
the same celebrity as No. 16 at the Cafe Anglais — 
known to all pleasure-loving Paris as le Grand 
Seize, the scene of innumerable supper-parties 
composed of the most fashionable boulevardiers 
and stars of the lighter stage, and of the cream of 
the demi-monde. 

Besides Frenchmen, a certain number of foreigners 
formed part of this coterie — amongst them the 
Prince of Orange, familiarly known as "Citron"; 
Khalil Bey, who had a wonderful Moorish house in 
the Avenue Friendland, and who eventually nearly 
ruined himself at baccarat ; and INIustapha Pasha, 



i 



PRINCE PAUL DEMIDOFF 225 

brother of the Khedive, who at one time, through 
jealousy, was on bad terms with another great 
Oriental man of pleasure, his cousin Ismail. A 
reconciliation eventually took place, but, never- 
theless, cynics said the two Eastern viveurs would 
never take coffee together, each of them thinking 
that the advance of chemical knowledge made it 
too dangerous. 

Another frequenter of the Grand Seize was 
Prince Paul DemidofF, who one season played a 
good joke upon the Director of the Opera in 
London. He had hired a box for the season, for 
which he paid about £720 for six months, and, as 
he passed only about a quarter of an hour in his box 
and there were only three performances a week, 
every quarter of an hour cost him a little more 
than £8. 

One evening a friend who met him in Regent's 
Park asked him to accompany him to the Opera, 
where " Fidelio " was being played. The Prince 
was at first unwilling to go, but eventually con- 
sented. On his arrival, however, when he had 
scarcely crossed the threshold of the theatre, he was 
stopped by an official, who said in a loud voice : 

" You are not properly dressed !" 

The Prince's attire, as a matter of fact, was irre- 
proachable ; but, following some passing foreign 
fashion, his black tie was dishonoured by three tiny, 
scarcely perceptible pink dots, embroidered at the 
extremity. 

" It's my tie, I suppose," said he, and, without 
remonstrating, said good-night to his friend and 
went away. 

15 



226 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

On the following day, however, he sent to the 
Director four servants bearing four enormous 
trunks, which, to his amazement, they deposited at 
his feet. One contained coats, another trousers, a 
third waistcoats, and a fourth ties. 

" What is the meaning of all this ?" said the 
impresario, very much puzzled. 

" Sir," answered one of the valets, " this is Prince 
DemidofF's wardrobe ; he begs that you will kindly 
yourself choose the clothes in which you will deign 
to admit him to his own box." 

There was a good deal of independent originality 
about some of the men of pleasure of that time. A 
friend of Prince DemidofF's, for instance, observing 
a lady in one of the avenues of the Champs Elysees 
seemingly unable to regain her carriage owing to 
the sea of mud along the side-walk, picked her up 
as if she had been a feather, and, without awaiting 
her consent, carried her dry-foot across to her con- 
veyance. jMore irritated at the liberty taken than 
grateful for the service rendered, the lady, at first 
dumb with astonishment and rage, found her voice 
when once more on the cushions of her coach, and 
called out : 

" You insolent fellow !" 

Without losing any of his composure the gentle- 
man again picked up his burden, retraced his steps, 
and deposited his passenger on the spot from which 
he had taken her ; then, with a silent bow, he went 
on his way, accompanied by the applause of those 
who had witnessed the incident. 

A constant habitue of the Grand Seize was 
Prince Paskie witch, one of whose predecessors in 



A LUCKY OFFICER 227 

the title had good reason to hke women, for his 
devotion to the ladies had been very advantageous 
to him. 

At the time of the invasion of the Allies the said 
General, then a simple officer in the Russian Army, 
was miraculously saved from an almost certain 
death by the following fantastic circumstances : 
A Mass according to the Greek Church was being 
held on the Place Vendome to celebrate the entry 
of the foreign army into Paris. The officers 
assisted at this celebration on wooden platforms 
constructed for the purpose at the angles of the 
square. A goodly number of actresses, many 
of them very beautiful, had hastened with an 
eagerness more curious than patriotic to admire 
the brilliant Staff of the Emperor Alexander. The 
crowd which obstructed the avenue rendered the 
promenade almost impassable, and these ladies were 
more than once on the point of being suffocated by 
the tumultuous crushing of the populace. Prince 
Paskiewitch perceived, in the midst of these human 
waves, a pretty actress whom he had previously 
seen on the stage of one of the variety theatres ; 
he got down from the platform and hurried to the 
assistance of beauty in distress, conducting her to 
some reserved seats. He was just exchanging a 
last bow with her, when the platform he had but 
recently left crashed down with a terrible noise, and 
more than thirty persons were crushed to death by 
its fall. The Emperor Alexander, then under the 
fatalist influence of Mme. de Krudener, foretold 
the greatest future success for this young man so 
miraculously saved, and it was, in fact, from this 



228 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

event that dated the uninterrupted career of honours 
and dignities of the young Prince Paskiewitch. To 
the fair one who had been the indirect cause of his 
advancement he remained grateful to the end of his 
life, making her a yearly allowance of 800 francs. 

The Caf^ Anglais, owing to the closing of the 
Cafe de Paris, was in 1856 at the height of its 
popularity. It was essentially the most aristocratic 
restaurant in Europe, and Duclere, its chef, was 
called by Rossini "The Mozart of French cookery." 

As for the famous suppers in the Grand Seize, 
everyone talked about them, newspapers alluded to 
them, and they were even mentioned in plays like 
the " Vie Parisienne," in w^hich may be found the 
following lines : 

" On parle, on crie 

Tant qu'on pent crier; 
Quand on n'en pent plus, il faut bien se taire ; 
La gaiete s"'en va petit a petit, 
LMn dort tout debout, Pautre dort par terre, 
Et voila comment la fete finit. 
Quand vient le matin, quand parait Taurore, 

On en trouve encore, 

Mais plus de gaiete. 
Les brillants viveurs sont mal a leur aise, 

Et dans le Grand Seize 

On voudrait du th^. 
lis s'en vont enfin, la mine blafarde, 
Ivre de champagne et de faux amour, 
Et le balayeur s'arrete, regarde, 
Et leur crie : ' Ohe ! les heureux du jour.'' "" 

Amongst the frail sisterhood the freedom of the 
Grand Seize was in great request, for habitual par- 
ticipation in the suppers held there was enough to 
raise a woman to the much-coveted status of being 
a great cocotte. 



GRAMONT-CADEROUSSE 229 

Amongst the male frequenters of the Grand 
Seize no one was more celebrated on the Boulevards 
than the famous young viveur, the Due de Gramont- 
Caderousse. This young man may be said to have 
been the foremost representative of the jeunesse 
doree of the Second Empire, the perfect type of 
the pleasure-loving houlevardiers, who constituted 
what Hortense Schneider, in the days of her triumph 
as the Grande-Duchesse de Gerolstein, called " my 
house." 

Insatiable in the pursuit of costly pleasure, the 
young Due committed all the follies to which 
wealthy young Frenchmen are occasionally prone. 
A warm admirer of the fair sex, he showered money 
and presents upon the demi-monde. To a girl who 
had been casually asked to a supper-party he once 
gave 5,000 francs, merely because she had sung 
some ditty which had amused him. This, however, 
was nothing to the sums which he expended upon 
fashionable courtesans. 

To one of these damsels he once presented as an 
Easter offering an enormous ornamental egg. This 
was, in reality, merely a coffer of ovoid form, 
covered with blue velvet, and powdered with hearts 
transfixed by arrows in gold embroidery. On being 
opened it disclosed a charming victoria of Binder's 
building, a pair of perfectly matched piebald ponies, 
and a small groom in faultless tunic, tops, and buck- 
skins. The whole turn-out was ready for immediate 
use, and the famous cocotte who received it drove 
her piebald pair in the Bois that very afternoon. 

Extravagant to the utmost limits of folly, the 
young Due got into debt with such marvellous ease 



230 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

that before he was twenty-one his guardians, 
making up their minds to get him out of Paris as 
soon as possible, sent him to London as Attache. 

Owing to his devotion to the Turf and the gaming- 
table, his debts just before his majority amounted 
to 1,000,000 francs ; and his relations had recourse 
to the conseil judiciaire, which in France has saved 
many young men from utter ruin. 

The Due was little disconcerted by this action* 
and continued to cut a brilliant figure at Baden, 
where he rode some winning horses for M. de 
Lagrange. 

On his return to France shortly after, he set up a 
racing stable, and paid fabulous prices for most of 
the twenty horses in it. He also contracted a 
liaison with Hortense Schneider, whose interpreta- 
tion of the part of the Grande-Duchesse de Gerol- 
stein created such a sensation. 

At first nights in Paris, or leading cotillons for 
the Empress, the Due now began to be quite a 
celebrity, more especially as his liaison with Mdlle. 
Schneider attracted general attention. In truth, 
he made no attempt to conceal it. Seated one 
evening in a private box with this fair one, the 
audience, thinking that the couple talked too loudly, 
began to call for their expulsion. De Gramont- 
Caderousse defied them, and refused to move till 
the police arrived upon the scene. 

Now began the Due's duelling career. In a 
short space of time he fought M. de la Rocca 
and M. Harrison, by both of whom he was 
wounded. 

Fatal duels were then not uncommon, as was 



J 



A FATAL DUEL 231 

shown in 1858 by a tragic encounter between 
M. de Pene, a contributor to the Chaiivari, and two 
sub-Heutenants of the French army. The occasion 
of the duel was an article by M. de Pene, in 
the Figaro, satirizing sub-lieutenants for their 
awkwardness, and making allusions to their tearing 
ladies' dresses with their spurs. After the publica- 
tion of this harmless squib, ]\L de Pene received 
several letters, calling on him to give the writers 
the satisfaction due to gentlemen. M. de Pene 
gave the honour of selection to the first comer, and 
the encounter took place at a retired spot near 
Paris, in the presence of some thirty or forty 
officers, the friends of M. de Pene's opponents. In 
a few passes this officer was wounded in the arm, 
and the two shook hands, declaring themselves 
satisfied. To the surprise of M. de Pene, however, 
another subaltern, of the name of Hyene, stepped 
forward, and said that the affair could not end thus — 
that the insults of the Figaro had offended tlie 
whole body of sub-lieutenants of the French army, 
and that he, as one, demanded satisfaction on the 
spot. M. de Pene's friends at once saw that the 
officers were determined to murder the young 
journalist, and tried to avert further bloodshed. 
M. de Pene declared that he did not consider him- 
self bound to renew the contest. Lieutenant 
Hyene answered, and struck M. de Pene on the 
mouth. The upshot was, that a second duel was 
fought, ending in poor M, de Pene being twice run 
through the body. 

In 1862 another journalist, M. Dillon, met his 
death at the hands of the Due de Gramont-Cade- 



232 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

rousse, who had taken offence at certain articles 
contributed to Le Sport. 

After some correspondence seconds were ap- 
pointed, and a meeting was arranged for October 21 
in the Forest of St. Germain. It was a stormy 
day, and there was so much wind and rain that the 
seconds had great difficulty in finding a suitable 
spot. On drawing for places fate favoured M. le 
Due, who chose the worst place. Then the start- 
ing signal was given, and Dillon at once took the 
offensive, lunged vigorously en tierce, and at the 
third pass received a sword-thrust under the arm 
between the fifth and sixth ribs, which traversed 
the left lung. The wounded man quickly raised 
his hand to his breast, fell down, and died instantly. 
" I have no luck," murmured Caderousse ; " this is 
the first time that I have not been wounded." 

Most of the eccentricities of the Due were par- 
donable in a wealthy young man allowed to gratify 
every wish from childhood ; this duel, however, 
was a more serious matter — indeed, little short of 
a crime. 

De Gramont-Caderousse only survived his ill- 
starred fellow-duellist three years ; unlike his clicre 
ajnie, Hortense Schneider, he never lived long 
enough to know old age. 

This incomparable actress — the very personifica- 
tion of the spirit of Paris — according to all accounts, 
was one of the most fascinating creatures who ever 
appeared upon the stage. Possessed of but a very 
small voice, she knew how to use it to the best 
advantage. Her smile was enchanting ; and she 
was endowed with a marvellous grace. 



HORTENSE SCHNEIDER 233 

No matter what steps she danced — and she 
occasionally invented queer ones — no matter if she 
even played leap-frog on the stage, her worst 
escapades were redeemed by an innate distinction, 
an elegance which caused everything to be forgiven ; 
in fact, more than any other actress, she seemed to 
excel in the essentially Parisian art of gracefully 
expressing all sorts of ideas which cannot be bluntly 
spoken of without offence. 

Hortense Schneider had been born at Bordeaux. 
A humble work-girl, she became stage-struck after 
being taken to the theatre, and declared her intention 
of becoming an actress. When her family objected, 
she seized a kitchen knife which was lying on 
the table, and, brandishing it in the air, called 
out, " Consent, or I kill myself !" The result was 
that she made her first appearance when fifteen at 
a Bordeaux theatre. 

In time she made her way to Paris ; and, ap- 
pearing at the Varietes, soon scored an immense 
success. 

As the Grande-Duchesse de Gerolstein she is said 
to have been irresistible ; and when archly looking 
at the numerous smart young officers — lieutenants 
of the Dragons de I'lmperatrice and other crack 
regiments, who always formed such a large propor- 
tion of her audience — she sang, 

" Cela me plairait-il, la guerre ? 
Je n^en sais rien. Ce que j e sais . . . 
C'est que j'aime les militaires," 

there was no restraining the wild and frenzied 
applause. 



234 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

Quite unshackled by austere considerations, 
Mdlle. Schneider smiled upon a great many men of 
pleasure during the time in which she dominated 
fashionable and frivolous Paris. 

One of her lovers, M. Feuillant, who succeeded 
the Due de Gramont-Caderousse, was very much 
upset at the Diva's partiality for Ismail Pasha. 
Nearly every evening Ismail's red fez was to be seen 
in a stage -box ; and the Grande-Duchesse was 
always glancing in his direction. Goaded to ex- 
tremity, and not knowing in what way to give vent 
to his ill-humour, M. Feuillant could find nothing 
better than one evening to put on a fez and hire the 
stage-box on the left, whilst the Viceroy of Egypt 
occupied that on the right. Mdlle. Schneider thus 
unexpectedly found herself having to deal with two 
Turks instead of one, which for the moment quite 
disconcerted her. 

At this time the actress's portrait as the Grande- 
Duchesse de Gerolstein was to be seen everywhere 
side by side with those of the crowned heads of 
Europe. In Paris she enjoyed almost royal honours, 
and expected to be treated with the deference due 
to one whose sovereignty, unlike that of some 
other rulers, was really based upon the love of her 
people. 

Driving up to an official fete one day, she was on 
the point of entering without showing a card of 
admission, when she was stopped and asked to give 
her name. 

" Announce the Grande-Duchesse de Gerolstein," 
said she ; and such was her air of fascination and 



THE GRANDE-DUCHESSE 235 

winsome authority that all the doors flew open 
before her. 

Fate, which is so often unkind to charming 
women in old age, was somewhat merciful to 
the Grande-Duchesse. She survived most of her 
contemporaries who had laughed and revelled in 
the Paris of the Second Empire ; and not so very- 
many years ago a French newspaper gave a de- 
scription of the placid life led by the former idol 
of the Boulevards as a contented old lady in her 
villa at Asnieres. 



CHAPTER X 

OFFENBACH — FAMOUS COCOTTES — LA PAIVA — THE 
BAL DES QUATZ' ARTS 

While Hortense Schneider nearly attained per- 
fection in expressing the light-hearted spirit which 
animated the pleasure-loving Paris of her day, 
Jacques Offenbach, the composer to whose success 
she so largely contributed, may be said to have 
been equally successful in expressing the very soul 
of the Second Empire. Even to-day, while listen- 
ing to the strains of his music, one may recreate 
imaginatively the whole eighteen years of careless 
and irresponsible gaiety. 

Though at one time it seemed as if this com- 
poser's name would sink into obscurity, there has 
recently been a strong revival of interest in his 
genius. A particularly pleasant feature of this 
revival is the appreciation accorded to the " Contes 
d' Hoffmann," that swan-song upon which Offenbach 
concentrated his last energies with such wonderful 
effect. The opera in question shows what he 
might hav6 achieved had he chosen to be a more 
serious musician ; nevertheless, it should be realized 
how successful he was in the direction he chose to 
follow for twenty-five years. During this period 
there were very few of his ninety-five operas which 

236 



OFFENBACH 237 

did not fill the house night after night at the time 
of their production ; and a large number of them 
crossed the frontiers, and were played with enormous 
success before crowded audiences all over Europe. 

In Paris he had also considerable social success. 
His weekly receptions were crowded with most of 
the notabilities of the Second Empire. Napoleon III 
patronized " Orphee aux Enfers." Meyerbeer used 
to go to the first nights, and amongst other musicians 
who offered homage or interchanged amenities was 
Rossini, who presented him with his autograph 
portrait inscribed " A Jacques Offenbach, au 
Mozart des Champs-Elysees." 

In his own special form of musical art there was 
never a more melodious composer. His music is 
imbued with real vitality. Even in some of the 
little one -act operettas Offenbach was not content 
merely to turn out a series of tunes which could be 
whistled after a first hearing. As for his more 
ambitious works, the famous " Couplets des Rois " 
in " La Belle Helene," or " Voici le sabre de mon 
pere " in " La Grande-Duchesse," and the " Gloire 
a Jupiter " chorus in " Orphee aux Enfers," cannot 
fail to delight those lucky enough to hear them 
rendered by competent artistes. Perhaps the most 
charming of all his tunes was the famous " Chanson 
de Fortunio," which he wrote to be sung in Alfred 
de Musset's " Chandelier," and which was eventually 
incorporated into a tiny one-act opera. 

The last wish of this great composer's life was 
to finish and see the production of " Les Contes 
d' Hoffmann," and this idea obsessed him during 
the fatal illness which attacked him in 1880. He 



238 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

died disappointed of his wish ; for although he had 
completed every note of the pianoforte score, he 
had only time to indicate the orchestration, which 
had to be filled in by Guiraud at the request of 
Carvalho, who produced the work at the Opera 
Comique four months after its composer's death. 

In private life Offenbach, though a true 
boulevardier, seems to have had rather simple 
tastes. His favourite restaurant was the Cafe 
Riche. Not a very exacting gastronomist, his 
mind, even when he was at meals, ran upon the 
composition of some new tune. 

At that time no one would have believed that 
Wagner's music would ever attain popularity. 

It was the Princesse de Metternich, who had 
musical tastes, who first introduced that composer 
to the Parisians, and it should be added that she 
did this with complete lack of success. '* A most 
intensely boring event was ' Tannhiiuser,' " wrote 
Merimee. " I think I could to-morrow write some- 
thing similar, by taking my inspiration from my 
cat walking over the keys of the piano. The per- 
formance was very curious. Mme. de Metternich 
tried hard to seem as if she understood, and to 
start the applause which failed. Everyone was 
yawning ; but at first each one tried to look as if he 
understood this riddle without a solution. The 
whole thing was a complete fiasco. " It is Berlioz 
without melody," said Auber. 

The fact was, that during the Second Empire 
public taste was all in favour of frivolity. A 
striking symptom of this was the interest 
manifested in the doings and sayings of the 




GREAT COCOTTES 239 

demi-monde, which at that time found a power- 
ful " federation of pleasure," the main qualifications 
for admission to which were beauty and a certain 
amount of wit. 

A number of the frail beauties of that age were, 
indeed, courtesans in the ancient meaning of the 
word rather than mere cocottes ; and they diffused 
an atmosphere of sumptuous immorality which 
intoxicated many who were unable to withstand 
its fragrance. The profession included such women 
as Cora Pearl, Blanche d'Antigny, and Marguerite 
Bellanger, who differed from the modern representa- 
tives of their ancient calling in being as particular 
about their carriages as about their dress. For a 
time the demi-daumont — a carriage similar in build 
to an open state carriage with a pair of horses, one 
of which was ridden by a postillion — was in high 
favour with these lights-of-love. Several of them 
were excellent horsewomen, whose appearance in 
the Eois de Boulogne on magnificent prancing 
steeds never failed to evoke the admiration of all. 
Imbued with an entirely different conception of 
life from that which prevails to-day, they did all 
they could to imitate the women of society. At 
present it is these latter who try to imitate the 
cocottes. 

Though the great courtesans of the Second Empire 
covered their failings with considerable refinement, 
they were frankly cocottes, and made no pretence 
whatever of being anything else. Flitting from 
one admirer to another, their loves were generally 
not of very long duration. " My dear, speaking of 
an amantr said one Phryne to another of her 



240 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

sisterhood, " he was an adorable fellow. It was 
quite eighteen months before I left him." 

Some of these ladies were very outspoken. 
Mdlle. Brohaii, having acted at a rich financier's, 
was asked by the mistress of the house to enrich 
her album with a thought. 

" Certainly, madame," answered the witty actress, 
and taking up a pen, she wrote : "I prefer dis- 
honour to death." 

An attitude of cold reserve was not popular ; 
indeed, an actress of small parts was, on this 
account, nicknamed " Beresina," it being currently 
reported that so icy was her attitude that one of 
her looks was apt to give admirers frostbite. 

A certain amount of assurance was considered a 
necessary quality by the sisterhood. This assurance 
not infrequently developed into impudence. In 
Blanche d'Antigny, a beautiful blonde who played 
Chilperic, cool impudence reached its utmost limit. 
During a visit to St. Petersburg she was shown a 
wonderful dress made by a famous modiste for the 
Empress. In a minute she had seized it, thrown 
it into her carriage, and driven away. That very 
evening she appeared at the theatre in the costume, 
having taken the box just opposite to that of the 
Imperial family. The Empress at once recognized her 
dress, with the result that the presumptuous cour- 
tesan was ordered to leave Russia and never return. 

Cora Pearl, the yellow-haired English Phryne, 
whose horses were the admiration of Paris, 
was also renowned for her impudence. During 
a revival of " Orphee aux Enfers" in 1867, 
the part of Cupid was, for some reason, allotted 



"LA PAiVA^' 241 

to her. The students of the Latin Quarter, rightly 
(for she was no actress) resenting this, came and 
hissed her, in reply to which she proceeded to 
do what is vulgarly known as " cocking a snook." 
Nevertheless, she very soon abandoned the part. 

After the fall of the Empire, Cora Pearl found 
herself growing old. Just at this moment, how- 
ever, she came across the son of the founder 
of the famous Bouillon Duval, a young man 
who had inherited 8,000,000 francs, which Cora 
Pearl expended for him. Young Duval then 
became melodramatic, and as she refused to receive 
him, he shot himself on her doorstep. This affair 
was but the beginning of misfortune, for, after 
having had enormous sums through her hands, she 
ended her life with scarcely a penny. 

The most successful courtesan of the Second 
Empire was the famous Madame de Paiva, who 
became the wife of a wealthy Silesian noble. 

Therese Lachman, a Polish Jewess married to a 
little French tailor at Moscow, having become tired 
of the sordid domesticity which prevailed in her 
home, found her way to Paris in 1848. She was a 
woman of great determination, who had always 
been imbued with a fixed conviction that she would 
become prosperous and rich. At first she led a 
miserable existence as one of the humbler class of 
demi-rnondaines, and was at times in dire straits. 
Never, however, did she waver in her idea that 
great fortune was in store for her. One day, when, 
exhausted by want, she was sitting on a bench in 
the Champs Elysees, she was unexpectedly relieved 
from despair by a charitable passer-by. At once 

16 



242 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

she recovered her spirits. " Near this spot where 
hunger has assailed me," said she, " I will some day 
build myself a luxurious mansion." Her prediction 
was verified, for in 1866 arose the gorgeous Hotel 
Paiva, to-day so well known as the Travellers' 
Club. The Paiva is supposed to have attached an 
almost superstitious importance to the site, which 
was also close to where on one occasion, when 
her horses had run away, the carriage was stopped. 
There seems to be no very reliable record as to the 
means by which " la Paiva " first obtained a footing 
amongst the gilded beauties of Paris. According 
to one story, she threw some slops out of a 
window in the obscure street in which she lived. 
A rich old gentleman, being bespattered, looked up, 
and was struck by her attractive countenance. The 
result was that her finances soon improved. For 
a time she had a liaison with the pianist Henri 
Hertz, but her extravagance soon exhausted his 
purse, and she drifted from the arms of one rich 
lover to those of another. Learning that her 
husband, whom she had abandoned in Russia, 
was dead, she determined to make a brilliant 
marriage. The most advantageous match she 
could make, however, was with a Portuguese 
noble, the JNIarquis Paivay Araugo, whose reputed 
colossal wealth consisted mainly of debts. Never- 
theless, for a time, his wife was not dissatisfied 
with the match she had made. Her title was 
an asset, and as she had now amassed a con- 
siderable fortune, she was willing to keep up the 
fiction of her husband's riches as long as it suited 
her own purpose. 



THE HOTEL PAIVA 243 

111 1855 she bought the plot of ground in the 
Champs Elysees which she had fixed upon in her 
days of poverty, the architect Mangain being em- 
ployed to erect a magnificent mansion, of which the 
ornamental details were entrusted to the sculptor 
Legrain. Many other artists and sculptors assisted ; 
and the house took a long time to finish, so that 
the Paiva only began her residence in it in 1866. 
Whilst the general effect of the internal decora- 
tions is rather gaudy, the painted ceiling of the 
grand salon, by Paul Baudry, is undoubtedly a 
fine work of art. This represents Day chasing 
Night, the latter symbolized by an undraped 
female figure which is a flattering representation 
of the Paiva herself. 

Money was spent like water upon this house. 
When the architect submitted designs for the state 
bedroom, with an estimate for 50,000 francs (£2,000) 
for the bed, " la Paiva " was horrified. " Fifty 
thousand francs !" she exclaimed. " You want me 
to be bitten by fleas ! Fifty thousand is not 
enough for a good one ; spend a hundred thousand !" 

The great fault was that the whole style of the 
building was too modern. Mme. de Paiva cared 
nothing for the past, and was not a collector. 
Nevertheless, she was not deficient in taste, and, 
having come in contact with artistic and clever 
men like Theophile Gautier, she was no bad judge 
of art. She also possessed the knack of discovering 
talent in young and unknown artists, several of 
whom she effectively patronized. Paul Baudry, 
who executed the famous ceiling, was then only 
beginning his career ; and she was one of the first 



244 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

to recognize the genius of the sculptor Dalou, who 
as a young man did a good deal of work for her. 
Funds for the erection of her ornate mansion were 
provided, it should be added, by a young Silesian 
noble — Count Henkel von Donnersmarck — who 
had fallen desperately in love with her. He eventu- 
ally married his inamorata in 1871, after the 
dissolution of her union with the Portuguese 
Marquis. It is a curious thing that this Jewess, 
although married by the ministers of several faiths, 
never, in her three weddings, employed a Rabbi. 
A Russian priest blessed her union to the French 
tailor ; a Catholic priest married her to the 
Portuguese Marquis ; and a Protestant pastor 
officiated at her nuptials with the great Silesian 
magnate. 

During the time that Mme. de Paiva lived at 
her fine mansion it was noted as the rendezvous of 
literary men and artists. The brothers Goncourt, 
Sainte-Beuve, Emile de Girardin, Arsene Houssaye, 
the austere Taine, and many others, were constant 
habitues of her salon. 

Though she was not a very genial hostess, 
the gorgeous but uncomfortable mansion was 
always full of guests ; women, how^ever, were very 
rarely present at her sumptuous dinners. The 
temperature was always very low ; and the 
superb chimney-pieces seldom contained fires. The 
mistress of the house, not being able to support 
heat, used to keep the windows open all the year 
round. 

The chilliness of the Hotel Paiva was enhanced 
by the mass of marble and onyx which formed 



VIVIER^S JOKE 245 

such a great part of its decorations. A feature of 
the mansion was the still existing onyx staircase, in 
allusion to which Emile Augier, much to the dis- 
gust of his hostess, wrote in her alhum : " Ainsi 
que la vertu, le vice a ses degres." 

Madame de Paiva had little sense of humour, 
and was much annoyed when, one evening after 
dinner, a great practical joker, Vivier by name, 
took in everyone by an admirable impersonation of 
Napoleon III. During dinner the mistress of the 
house received a note announcing an Imperial visit, 
and in due course a sham Napoleon III arrived, 
and was presented with great ceremony to all the 
guests present. When the joke was discovered, 
everyone except the hostess was convulsed with 
laughter. 

The fact was, that after she had attained pros- 
perity the Paiva took herself very seriously. 
Immediately after her marriage to the Portuguese 
Marquis for instance, she went (of course without 
an invitation) to a ball at the Tuileries, and was 
much annoyed at being requested to withdraw. A 
woman of inordinate ambition, who might have 
boasted the same motto as Fouquet — Quo non 
ascendam — no courtesan of her epoch ever attained 
anything like the same success, or ended her life 
in such prosperity. 

To her honour be it recorded, that after the 
conclusion of peace, when Count Henkel von 
Donnersmarck had been appointed Governor of 
Alsace-Lorraine, she did everything possible to 
soften the rigour of German rule towards the 
inhabitants of those provinces. Not only this, but 



246 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

both she and her husband later on did all they could 
to arrange a meeting between Gambetta— one of 
the habitues of the Hotel Paiva — and Bismarck, 
with a view to furthering a rapprochement between 
France and Germany. To the chagrin of those 
concerned, however, owing to political causes, this 
could never be arranged. 

In spite of their praiseworthy efforts, the feeling of 
the Parisians towards Germany continued so bitter, 
that some time later Count and Countess Henkel 
von Donnersmarck were obliged to leave the 
mansion in the Champs Elysees. At first there 
was some idea of transporting it stone by stone to 
Silesia, but this was found to be impossible. A 
new mansion, built in the style of the Tuileries, was, 
in consequence, constructed at Neudeck, in Silesia, 
and here " la Paiva " ended her life in 1884. Her 
last marriage was not unhappy, for her husband, to 
whom she left everything, adored her. Though 
she had spent enormous sums, she increased rather 
than diminished his great wealth, her shrewd advice 
proving of the very greatest assistance in the 
development of his vast estates. 

In 1887 the Hotel Paiva was sold to a German 
banker for 143,000 francs. Three years later, 
during the Exhibition, Cubat, the great Russian 
restaurateur, turned it into a restaurant. This 
proving a failure, it remained unoccupied until it 
was at last turned into the Travellers' Club, which 
at present flourishes in the gilded halls where the 
Paiva was wont to reign. 

The story of this woman's wonderful career is 
now forgotten amongst the Parisian demi-monde. 



THE DUG DE MORNY 247 

but during her heyday it was an inspiriting legend, 
well known to most of those leading a similar 
existence. 

Mabille was not far away from her palatial 
mansion, and when the daughters of pleasure 
looked at its glittering lights,'^many of them re- 
garded it as a sort of mysterious Paradise into 
which they, too, might some day hope to enter. 

In some cases their hopes were partially fulfilled, 
and through a lucky chance many a one secured 
fortune and flattery. It was an age when attractive 
and ambitious girls not infrequently found wealthy 
admirers, able and ready to make them the fasliion 
by lavish expenditure. The possibilities in this 
direction were not confined to men of pleasure : 
the spirit was widespread. Almost all the states- 
men and politicians of France made little conceal- 
ment about their partiality for the society of certain 
of the demi-monde. An exception was the Due de 
]\Iorny, one of the most powerful figures at the 
Court of his half-brother, Napoleon III. An 
aristocrat to the finger-tips, and a man of pleasure 
of a refined type, the Due found his amusements 
in boudoirs rather than in the cabinets particuliers. 

Although he had tasted far more of the sweets 
of power and the joys of life than falls to the lot of 
the vast majority of humanity, he met death 
without flinching. His disappearance in 1865 was 
a sad blow to the Empire, which he had largely 
assisted to found and to maintain. 

In the last years of the Imperial regime the 
social gaiety which had been one of its most con- 
spicuous features began to wane. In 1868, how- 



248 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

ever, the masked balls given by Arsene Houssaye 
achieved great popularity amongst the leaders of 
Parisian society. The first of these balls originated 
in an impromptu fashion one Shrove Tuesday, and 
proved such an amusing affair that a series of 
others followed. Features of these dances were 
that friends of the host were expected to invite 
themselves, and all the ladies had to come masked. 

Then, again, just before the disastrous conflict 
with Prussia, Parisian gaiety fell to a low ebb. 
Many of the great viveiirs were dead, and a sort 
of sinister melancholy seemed to be hovering in the 
air. Sainte-Beuve wrote : " L'Empire est bien 
malade." Then came the war, during which many a 
" man of pleasure " met his death, bravely trying to 
stay the advance of the triumphant Prussians. 
When peace was again established, France once 
more began to flourish ; but the old careless life of 
the Boulevards was a thing of the past. The joyous 
days and merry nights had gone for ever. Old 
viveurs of the fifties and sixties sobered down into 
staid old men. Their life lay not in the future, but 
in the past. They lamented the time when the 
Avenue de ITmperatrice was full of well-appointed 
carriages and great landaus, so well suited to an era 
of superabundant skirts. 

Gone were all these fine equipages, together with 
the demi-dmnnont of Cora Pearl and the daumonts 
of her sisters in frivolity, some of whom prided 
themselves upon their horses being ridden by 
jockeys in gay jackets. 

Nevertheless, the life of Paris continued much as 
it had always done. 







PARISIAN BEAUTIES OF THE " SIXTIES." 



PARIS 249 

Shortly after the war a fair Hght-of-love of 
the Second Empire, meeting Arsene Houssaye, 
said to him : " People still amuse themselves, 
but it's no longer the same thing."' His reply 
was : " It's always the same thing !"' And he was 
right. 

Paris, perhaps even more to-day than in the 
eighteenth century, when the noblesse alone could 
gratify every desire for amusement, remains the 
great pleasure-resort of Europe. Its strange com- 
pound of art, intellect, and dissipation possesses a 
peculiar charm which no other city is able to 
offer. Here no stern restrictions exist to prevent 
the reveller from carousing till the dawn of day : 
and the \Wldest extravagances (provided that the 
perpetrator of them has a well-filled purse) provoke 
nothing but a smile. Nevertheless, there are times 
when in Paris even the most thoroughgoing viveiir 
becomes conscious of a strange feeling of melancholy. 
Pleasure and sorrow are not so very far apart, and 
when the lights ftide away and the gay music is 
hushed, all the terrible scenes which have occurred 
in the streets rise again before the man of imagina- 
tion. He thinks of the thousands — nay, milhons — 
who have loved and laughed, now sleeping their 
last sleep in the great cemeteries of the vast city. 
A strange pathos even Imgers about its feverish 
life, for Paris may well be compared to a beautiful 
woman, rather lacking in heart, who has had a sad 
and tempestuous past, and whose face bears in- 
effaceable traces of a stormy past. Contemptuous 
of restraint and convention, she has suffered and 
experienced so much that, thoroughly disillusioned, 



250 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

she finds in life very little to believe in or to 
respect. 

At the end of the eighteenth century she danced 
and wantoned whilst her rulers were flung into the 
dust-hole ; and all her other terrible experiences in 
subsequent years failed to sober her. Though 
nothing has been able to quench her passion for 
amusement and pleasure, her trials, tragedies, and 
tribulations have left her unsatisfied and restless. 
Perhaps this is why her gaiety sometimes seems 
sad, as though it arose from long habit, rather than 
from spontaneous impulse. 

Though still the Mecca of the pleasure-seeker, 
Paris, within the last twenty years, has greatly 
changed. That air of unconstrained gaiety once so 
conspicuous seems now almost to have disappeared : 
the numerous places of amusement offer attraction 
to the foreign visitor rather than to the Parisians 
themselves. 

Almost without exception, the famous restaurants 
so popular with the grandfathers of the present 
generation have now vanished. One of the few 
retaining its old appearance and ways is the Cafe 
Anglais ; but that, too, seems unlikely to last very 
long. The old-fashioned French restaurant, with 
its moderate prices, has long been a thing of the 
past. Shortly after the spread of railways brought 
crowds to Paris, the restaurateicrs began to put up 
their prices ; and they have been continuing the 
same policy ever since. 

Many years ago, two witty boulevardiers deter- 
mined to give a lesson to one of these too extor- 
tionate restauratews^ and, with this end in view, 



A COSTLY HOAX 251 

they caused to be printed bills of fare corresponding 
exactly in style to his own, but with the prices 
reduced by about two-thirds. They then told 
their friends how moderately one could dine at the 
restaurant where they intended to operate, and, 
going there early, contrived to substitute their bills 
of fare for those of the house. 

Quantities of diners soon flocked in. " Waiter," 
said one, "bring me a truffled turkey." And he 
added : "It's really ridiculous ; the charge is only 
four francs." " Some salmon," cried another, busily 
engaged in devouring his second partridge, priced 
on the menu at 75 centimes, and salmon at 1 franc. 
Everyone was full of good-humour and gaiety. 

But when the time to pay came, the most 
extravagantly comical discussions arose between 
the waiters and the customers. Menus were pro- 
duced and compared, everyone got indignant, every 
table was the scene of a dispute. At last the owner 
of the restaurant was summoned ; when he saw the 
prices, he opened his eyes in astonishment. He 
admitted he was powerless, and not knowing whom 
to blame, ended by groaning and declaring that he 
would most certainly be ruined. 

So great became the disturbance that eventually 
the police were called in, with the result that a sort 
of judgment of Solomon was enforced. The real 
and sham prices were compared, and the clients 
were made to pay something between the two, 
which arrangement everyone admitted to be a very 
just one. 

Though the restaurants have changed, late hours 
continue to be tolerated in Paris, and on the Hill 



252 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

of Montmartre no restrictions exist to cause 
revellers to leave their supper-tables before dawn. 

Though the large majority of the ladies fre- 
quenting such free resorts are members of the 
most ancient profession in the world, English and 
Americans — some of whom in their own countries 
are perpetually prating about reforming other 
people's morals — abound. Moreover, they show 
little of that repulsion for frailty which they are 
so fond of expressing at home. Nor do they seem 
to object to the very late hours, for not a few 
may be observed wandering from one night cafe to 
another up till dawn. 

In quite recent years a certain French paper en- 
deavoured to inaugurate a campaign in favour of 
closing all pleasure-resorts at two in the morning. 
Its efforts did not meet with the least support or ap- 
preciation, and the matter was soon allowed to drop. 

The traditions of that free gaiety which delighted 
former generations are still not quite extinct in 
Paris, where the most striking manifestation of this 
spirit of unrestrained and exuberant revelling is the 
annual Bal des Quatz' Arts. 

This was founded by Jules Roques, the editor of 
the very anti-puritanical Coicjiier Fran^ms, in 
1891, in collaboration with the architect Henri 
Guillaume ; the first ball being given at the Elysee 
INlontmartre. An artistic carnival organized entirely 
by art students, this ball is, above all, characterized 
by the great skill shown in reconstituting some past 
epoch. The finale is always characteristically 
Parisian, consisting, as it does, in a wild dance in 
the courtyard of the Ecole des Beaux- Arts. 



THE BAL DES QUATZ' ARTS 253 

This ball has always been noted for the artistic 
taste displayed in the dress of those ladies who 
attend it in any costume at all ; while a feature of 
the evening has always been the number of well- 
known models who appear in a costume as modest 
as that of Eve in the Garden of Eden. 

Eighteen years ago, in 1893, M. Berenger, the 
well-known Parisian moral reformer, whose moral- 
izing zeal is not very popular in Paris, discovered 
the existence of this ball, and took exception to the 
feature mentioned above. The Prefect of Police of 
the day was M. Loze, who, indifferent to the 
historical privileges of the students of the Latin 
Quarter, attempted to interfere with them, and 
announced his intention of suppressing, or at least 
modifying, the Bal des Quatz' Arts. The imme- 
diate result was that very fierce indignation 
prevailed in the Latin Quarter, the Boulevard 
St. Michel being the scene of wild and dangerous 
disorders. Large forces of police were called out, 
with orders to use force and fire if the situation 
should appear to call for strong measures. As a 
result of these, a young man who was sipping coffee 
quietly outside a cafe near the Pantheon was shot 
dead with a pistol-bullet. This put an end to the 
half-laughing rowdyism, and turned the hot-headed 
students into rioters. For three strenuous days 
the police and the military had their work cut out 
for them. Numbers of individuals were severely 
hurt ; many of the Parisians turning out to join 
with the students in the fray, which continued for 
four days. 

A curious incident resulted from these riots. In 



254 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

the course of the fighting, some students found a 
girl-child, apparently a couple of weeks old, wrapped 
in a blanket without any marks to disclose the little 
creature's identity. The baby was pretty ; it was 
also helpless and homeless. The students had found 
her close to the Sorbonne on the day of St. Lucy, 
and they adopted her and christened her Lucie 
" Bagarre," which word signifies a riot. 

Like most over-zealous attempts to curb personal 
liberty, M. Berenger's crusade entirely failed in its 
object, and the only result was the tragedy men- 
tioned above. The Bal des Quatz' Arts still 
flourishes. Deterred, no doubt, by fear of further 
loss of life, the authorities, recognizing the danger 
of interference, have since left it alone. 

In the writer's opinion, it was greatly to the 
honour of the Parisians that they came out and 
fought to show their resentment against meddling 
Puritanism. Their action was the more creditable, 
as not one in twenty thousand had the least chance 
of attending the ball. The admission to this has 
always been strictly limited to those connected with 
the ateliers of the various artists, and the invitation- 
card is always designed by some well-known artist. 
A different scheme of decoration and costume is 
adopted every year, and the object in view, as 
already mentioned, is the reconstitution of some 
particular epoch. 



CHAPTER XI 

ROYALTY AT PLAY BLUFF KING HAL FRANCIS I — 

CHARLES II — GEORGE IV 

It is only natural, perhaps, that many rulers should 
have been men of pleasure ; before the light of 
criticism beat so fiercely upon a monarch's life, a 
immber of kings spent a large proportion of their 
time in amusement. Bluff King Hal, for instance, 
in the intervals of marrying and remarrying, ardently 
joined in the sports and pastimes so popular in the 
England of his day. 

In 1515 he and Queen Catharine, accompanied 
by many lords and ladies, rode a-Maying from 
Greenwich to the high ground of Shooter's Hill, 
where they found a company of 200 tall yeomen, 
all clothed in green, with green hoods, and bows 
and arrows. One, who was their chieftain, known 
as Robin Hood, desired the King and all his com- 
pany to stay and see his men shoot ; and when 
the King agreed he whistled, and all the 200 dis- 
charged their arrows at once, a feat which they re- 
peated on his whistling again. Their arrows had 
something placed in the heads of them that made 
them whistle too, and, as they flew, they produced a 
loud and very uncommon noise, at which the King 
and Queen were greatly delighted. 

The gentleman who assumed the character of 

255 



256 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

Robin Hood then desired the King and Queen, 
with their retinue, to enter the greenwood, where, 
in arbours made with boughs intermixed with 
flowers, they were plentifully served with venison 
and wine by Robin Hood and his men. 

Henry VI H loved feasting amidst scenes of 
pomp and pageantry. His taste in this direction 
was fully gratified on the famous Field of the Cloth 
of Gold, where, in 1520, he met Francis I. The 
scene of this historic fete was on the plain situated 
midway between the towns of Guisnes and Ardres, 
the exact place of rencontre being close to the 
villages of Breme and Balinghen, just without the 
English "pale." The meeting between the two 
monarchs was chronicled in the inflated language of 
the day as having taken place on Le Champ de Drap 
d'Or, or on the Field of the Cloth of Gold, because 
the royal pavilions, intended for their conference 
and repose, were draped and covered with that 
costly and brilliant material. 

With Wolsey for a Master of the Ceremonies, and 
with two potentates unrivalled for their love of pomp 
and parade as the chief performers in the pageantry, 
it may readily be believed that nothing was wanting 
to render the gorgeous spectacle sumptuous and 
magnificent in the extreme. 

The preparations for the meeting of tlie two 
Kings were very elaborate. 

On March 11, 1519, no fewer than 500 car- 
penters, 300 masons, together with various painters, 
glaziers, smiths, joiners, and other artificers, amount- 
ing to more than 2,000 men, arrived from England 
under the charge of Sir Edward Bellknappe, Sir 



THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD 257 

Nicholas Vaux, and Sir William Sands, Commis- 
sioners to the King ; and on the 19th were set to 
work at the erection of a temporary, yet magnificent 
palace, immediately without the castle gate at 
Guisnes. An immense raft of timber was brought 
by sea from Holland to Calais, there broken up, and 
thence forwarded to the works at Guisnes ; besides 
which, several shiploads of portions of the palace, 
prepared and framed, as well as of boards and deals, 
arrived from England. With these materials a 
stately castellated edifice of quadrangular propor- 
tions was erected, sufficiently large to entertain 
and lodge the whole of the Court of England, 
besides having banqueting room for the French 
King and his retinue. 

Duchesne asserts the building to have been 
128 feet high ; its circumference, or space occupied 
by the four quadrants, having been, according to 
Hall, the Recorder of London at the time, who 
attended Henry as an official chronicler of the fete, 
no less than 1,312 feet. 

The outer walls were covered with canvas, painted 
in imitation of freestone and rubbed brickwork — a 
method frequently adopted at the present day in 
imitation of ancient buildings ; the interior was 
ornamented by curious sculptures, and hung with 
the richest tapestry, cloths of gold and silver, paned 
with green and white silk, the favourite colours of 
the House of Tudor. 

At the foot of the grand staircase and along the 
corridors were placed gigantic figures in armour, 
wrought in cunningly devised work. 

The walls of the palace were crenulated and forti- 

17 



258 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

fied at their angles, as also on each side of the gi-and 
entrance, or gateway, by a circular tower of brick- 
work, pierced with loopholes. 

On either side of the gate were two large transom 
bay windows, separated from each other by a square 
freestone tower, which was carried up above the 
battlements of the parapet, and terminated by a 
large projecting moulded cornice. Between the 
heads of the bartizans and the cornice under the 
battlements ran a broad flourished frieze, grounded 
red and inlaid with tracery. 

The head of the grand gateway, or entrance into 
the palace, was formed by a decorated arch, whose 
archivault rested on the capitals of two Corinthian 
pilasters, which formed the architrave that covered 
the jambs of the doorway. The archivault was 
rusticated and enriched with a profusion of orna- 
ments, whilst upon the crown, or keystone, stood a 
male figure, with a pair of expanded wings and a 
pilgrim's staff in his right hand, his shield support- 
ing his left, resting with its point upon the head of 
an expiring dragon upon which he is trampling. 

The temporary palace, erected without the castle 
gate at Guisnes on the occasion of Henry VIII's 
interview wdth Francis I, was supposed to be a 
close imitation of the Staple Hall at Calais. 

It was a fine sight when the two pleasure-loving 
Kings met in the Valley of Valdore, between A rdres 
and Guisnes, on June 7, 1520. Francis I was 
mounted on a beautiful charger, dressed in a doublet 
of cloth of gold, with a cloak of the same material 
studded with the most brilliant jewels, the sleeves 
of which were ornamented with the largest and 



A FRATERNAL EMBRACE 259 

finest pearls, diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. His 
bonnet of velvet was mounted with feathers and 
glittering stones. The King of England appeared 
in a suit of silver, enriched with precious gems, 
while his huge white plume fluttered gracefully in 
the summer breeze. As they entered the valley, 
accompanied by their constables, they checked the 
pace of their coursers, and with drawn swords 
approached one another. When they got close 
they clapped their spurs into the sides of their 
steeds, as if they were about to cross swords in 
combat, and then, in an instant, simultaneously 
doffing their bonnets, embraced with great cor- 
diality and warmth. 

It is related by Bernard that Francis I, not 
willing to be outdone in magnificence by Henry, 
had invited the English King and all his Court to a 
splendid banquet he purposed giving in a gorgeous 
pavilion GO feet in length, and covered entirely 
with a tissue of bullion, the very cordage to the 
same being of silk and gold. The sumptuous 
tent was pitched without the ramparts of Ardres ; 
but on the day of the banquet a furious tempest 
arose, snapped the golden cords asunder, and rent 
the superb fabric to shreds, the walls of the 
rampart over which it was blown being long after 
known as the bastion dufestin. 

On the plain in front of the palace, two superb 
conduits, placed at a short distance from each other, 
were erected. 

These fountains had the following motto, em- 
blazoned in Roman letters, on their crowns : 

"FAITE— BONNE— CHERE—QUY—VOULDRA," 



260 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

and, according to the Marechal de Florenge, ran 
with red wine, hippocras, and water during the 
continuation of the pageant. 

The cuhnary offices requisite for the preparation 
of the sumptuous banquets, including a group of 
ovens, "boihng and roasting offices," buttery, 
pantries, and sculleries, were situated a short and 
convenient distance from the grand pavilion, and 
covered in with canvas. 

In the adjacent fields several other tents were 
pitched, designed for the use of sutlers, and 
covered with green and white, and red and white 
linen. 

Tissues of gold and silver, velvets, plumes, and 
miniver, with damascened harness of Milan steel, 
and sword-blades beyond price, composed the toilet 
of the knightly throng assembled on the plain of 
Artois, beneath their golden canopy. 

The horse naturally shared in the splendour of his 
lord, and was panoplied in housings of cloth of gold, 
or morocco leather, embossed with precious stones 
. and bullion. As well as huntsmen, musicians, 
jesters, heralds, and troubadours, ladies were there 
in abundance. 

The Hsts at the so-called " Field of the Cloth of 
Gold " contained within their area a space of 
900 feet in length, and 320 feet in breadth, accord- 
ing to Hall's account, and were entirely fenced in 
by stout palisades and barriers, with the exception 
of the entrance-gates. 

On the left of the lists ran a long gallery for the 
reception of the royal personages and their attend- 
ants, the barriers being guarded by a great number 



THE LISTS 261 

of demi-lancers and other troops on horseback, 
completely armed. 

One entrance into the lists was guarded by French 
soldiers, clothed in blue and yellow uniform, with a 
salamander, the badge of Francis, embroidered on 
their sleeve. The other was kept by the English 
Yeomen of the Guard holding their partisans. 
Close to the gallery end of the arena was planted 
the Tree of Honour, its trunk being draped with a 
mantle of red velvet, richly embroidered with gold, 
whilst from its branches, in accordance with the rules 
of chivalry, hung the shields of arms of the chal- 
lengers in the tourney. Numerous high officials 
presided over the sports, including the Earl of 
Essex as Marshal, with an efficient staff whose 
special duty lay in keeping '' straungers and vaga- 
bundes" from approaching too near the golden 
encampment, or from even passing over the ditches 
by which its outer precincts were entrenched. 

Sir Henry Marney was appointed to keep Henry's 
" lodging," the Lord Steward and Master Comp- 
troller being ordered to " take heed to the due 
provision of his ' frute and drinke.' " 

The several entrances to the field were kept by 
an equal number of French and English guards. 

Henry VIII was no carpet knight. On the 
contrary, he was a stalwart Briton, and an awk- 
ward customer to the best men in the ring or lists, 
come he from what land he might. 

Francis I, likewise, was no degenerate scion of 
the House of Valois, but a brave and chivalrous 
knight, willing to run a course with any lance 
in Christendom. 



262 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

Hence it was that, when the interview was agreed 
upon between the two mighty monarchs, proclama- 
tion was made by Orleans, King-at-Arms for France, 
and Clarencieux for England, in all the Courts of 
Europe, that their respective lords and suzerains, 
Francis and Henry, would, with certain aids, abide 
all comers, being gentlemen, at the tilt, tourney, 
and barriers. 

During the time that the solemnity of arms 
lasted — namely, twenty-eight days — a series of 
reciprocal visits, banquets, tilts, tourneys, and other 
martial exercises, took place on the Field of the 
Cloth of Gold. On the eleventh day, the two Kings 
in person entered the lists in complete armour, and 
splintered several lances without it being possible 
to determine which of them had the advantage. 

Francis I — most gallant of kings — was the 
typical man of pleasure of his age. No mention 
of this monarch can be made without some reference 
to his valet of the bedchamber, Clement Marot, 
the favourite French poet of that age. The in- 
ventor of the rondeau and the restorer of the 
madrigal, he was renowned for his pastorals, ballads, 
fables, elegies, epigrams, and translations from Ovid 
and Petrarch. At length, being tired of the vanities 
of profane poetry, or rather, secretly favourable 
to the principles of Lutheranism, he attempted, 
with the assistance of his friend Theodore Beza, 
and by the encouragement of the Professor of 
Hebrew in the University of Paris, a version of 
David's Psalms into French rhymes. This trans- 
lation, which did not aim at any innovation in the 
public worship, and which received the sanction of 



CLEMENT MAROT 263 

the Sorbonne as containing nothing contrary to 
sound doctrine, he dedicated to his master, 
Francis I, and to the ladies of France. In the 
dedication to the ladies or les dames de France, 
whom he had often before addressed in the ten- 
derest strains of passion or compliment, he seems 
anxious to deprecate the raillery which the new 
tone of his versification was likely to incur, and 
is embarrassed how to find an apology for becoming 
a saint. Conscious of his apostasy from the levities 
of life, in a spirit of religious gallantry he declares 
that his desire is to add to the happiness of his fair 
readers by substituting divine hymns in the place 
of chansons d' amour ; to inspire their susceptible 
hearts with a passion in which there is no torment ; 
to banish their fickle and fantastic deity, Cupid, 
from the world ; and to fill their dainty boudoirs 
with the praises, not of the little god, but of the 
true Jehovah. He adds that the Golden Age would 
now be restored were we to see the peasant at his 
plough, the carman in the streets, and the mechanic 
in his shop, solacing their toils with psalms and 
canticles ; and the shepherd and shepherdess re- 
posing in the shade, and teaching the rocks to 
echo the name of the Creator. Soon the " Psalms " 
of JNIarot were sung all over France, generally 
accompanied by the fiddle. So great was the 
demand that printers became unable to supply 
sufficient copies. At Court they achieved an un- 
paralleled popularity, the Royal family and principal 
nobility all choosing psalms to be sung to some 
favourite tune. For instance, the Dauphin, Prince 
Henry, who delighted in hunting, was fond of 



264 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

" Ainsi qu'on oit le cerf bruire," or " Like as the 
hart desire th the waterbrooks," which he constantly 
sang in going out to the chase. Mme. de 
Valentine, between whom and the young Prince 
there was an attachment, took " Du fond de ma 
pensee," or " From the depth of my heart, O Lord." 
The Queen's favourite was "Ne vueilles pas, O 
Sire " — that is, " O Lord, rebuke me not in thine 
indignation " — which she sang to a fashionable 
jig. Anthony, King of Navarre, sang " Revenge 
moy, pren le querelle," or " Stand up, O Lord, 
to revenge my quarrel," to the air of a dance of 
Poitou. 

The last years of Francis I were sad ones. The 
faults and bad behaviour of his Ministers plunged 
him into a state of great depression, which caused 
him to make many political mistakes. He was 
also deeply depressed by the death of Henry VI H 
of England, which he took very much to heart. 

Henry IV of France was inordinately fond of 
women and of gambling. The exact number of 
his mistresses has never been known, but it was 
very large. He had no social prejudices in his love- 
affairs — duchesses or peasant girls attracted him 
equally, and were as quickly abandoned once he 
was tired of them. Even abbesses were not exempt 
from his attentions. During the Siege of Paris he 
fell violently in love with the Abbess of Mont- 
martre, and at the Siege of Pontoise, Henry and 
his officers entirely demoralized some nuns of 
Maubuisson. 

Not so calculating in his vices as Louis XV with 
his Pare aux Cerfs, this King of France, neverthe- 



CHARLES II 265 

less, had plenty of people about his Court ready to 
assist him in his amourettes. 

The atmosphere of flattery which surrounded the 
old French kings was of a most pronounced descrip- 
tion. Scarcely anyone ever ventured to tell the 
monarch that he might be mistaken ; only a few dared 
to speak the truth when it might prove unpalatable. 

Louis XIV, playing at backgammon, had a 
doubtful throw. A dispute arose, and the sur- 
rounding courtiers all remained silent. The Count 
de Gramont happened to come in at that instant. 
" Decide the matter," said the King to him. " Sire," 
said the Count, " your Majesty is in the wrong." 
" How," replied the King, " can you thus decide 
without knowing the question ?" " Because," said 
the Count, " had the matter been doubtful, all 
these gentlemen present would have given it for 
your Majesty." 

Amongst the English kings who have loved 
pleasure, Charles II held a unique position. Never 
did there exist a monarch so clever at getting his 
own way. No doubt much that he did was quite 
indefensible, yet neither his contemporaries nor 
posterity has been severe towards him. For one 
reason, Charles, in spite of numberless faults and 
moral failings, was essentially human ; and, in 
addition, he possessed a winning manner, together 
with a sense of humour. 

Owing to these endowments he was able to 
indulge in all sorts of " high jinks," which, in the 
case of a less popular monarch, would have aroused 
dangerous indignation throughout the country. As 
it w^as, the Merry Monarch openly flouted the 



266 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

spirit of Puritanism which, under Cromwell, had 
exercised so much power in England. 

In Gibber's apology for Charles's life, the writer 
says, " that he had often seen that Merry Monarch 
in the act of feeding his ducks in Rosamond's 
Pond, and playing with his dogs amidst crowds of 
spectators — diversions with which the King was 
peculiarly gratified ; and which," he adds, " made 
the common people adore him, and consequently 
overlook in him what, in a prince of a different 
temper, they might have been out of humour at." 

The spot where Rosamond's Pond stood was at 
the south-west corner of St. James's Park, and 
it was not filled up till after the middle of the 
eighteenth century. The laughter-loving monarch 
had a more than common attachment to this spot. 
He planted an avenue of trees, and built an aviary 
near it ; and from the circumstances of the bird- 
cages having been suspended on the branches of 
the trees, the present name, Birdcage Walk, was 
derived. 

Austere folk like Evelyn, who, in describing one 
of the closing scenes of royal dissipation, declared 
that he could never forget the inexpressible luxury, 
gaming, and debauchery which he witnessed one 
Sunday evening at Whitehall, when the King sat 
toying with his concubines, were no doubt scand- 
alized. Charles, however, was so popular with his 
people that his laxness never involved any danger 
to his throne. 

The general tone of dissipation which prevailed 
during this reign produced the " town-gallant," as 
a man of pleasure of good family was then called. 



THE TOWN-GALLANT 267 

According to all accounts, vanity, folly, debauchery, 
and profaneness were in most cases the vices 
courted by this individual, who appears to have 
been more deserving of censure than his successors, 
the bucks and beaux. Nature, indeed, seemed 
to have taken a world of pains to make him a fool, 
and attained her end at the age of discretion ; being 
at this sage period of life a mere bundle of vanity, 
or a kind of walking exchange, composed of various 
new and ridiculous fashions, he might be estimated 
with the greatest accuracy by the value of his 
clothes. The grand object of his life was making 
love, at which, according to his own account, he 
was ever successful — matrimony he despised, and 
an invective uttered against that unfortunate 
animal called a husband gave him infinite delight. 

Such men led roystering lives and indulged in all 
sorts of profane swearing, smiling at the name of 
the devil, bursting with laughter when they heard 
of spirits and apparitions, and maintaining with 
oaths that there were no other angels than those in 
petticoats ; denying any essential difference between 
good and evil, they deemed conscience a check 
suited merely to frighten children. 

The life of a town-gallant was of a most un- 
edifying description. 

" Till noon " (says a contemporary writer) " he 
lies abed to digest his overnight's debauchery, and 
having dressed himself, he first trails along the 
street, observing who observes him, and from his 
uprising, gets just time enough to the French 
ordinary to sup 1e pot age, eat boeuf a la mode, and 
drink briskly of Burgundy. After this, a coach is 



268 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

called for, to rattle his raore rattle-head to the play- 
house, where he advances into the middle of the pit, 
struts about a while to render his good parts more 
conspicuous, pulls out his comb, curries his wig, 
hums the orange - wench to give her own un- 
reasonable rates for a little fruit ; alas, how can she 
live else, giving at least £40 per annum for liberty 
to tread and foul those seats the silken petticoats 
and gaudy pantaloons do sit on ?" 

The town-gallant delighted in carousals, during 
which it was an established practice for all men 
of pleasure to toast the reigning beauties who at 
that time wielded such sway. The regular cere- 
monial observed on such occasions was for the 
chairman or president at any party to call upon a 
gentleman for his toast. The latter rose, filled his 
bumper, named his lady, and produced, to public 
view some part of his dress, or other matter which 
might be detached from his person, and which he 
devoted to be sacrificed in honour of the lady he 
adored. Every man at the table was bound to 
imitate exactly the giver of the toast. Bumpers were 
drained with cheers, and the articles to be sacrificed 
were thrown into the fire, there to be consumed in 
honour of the divinity of the moment. Every man 
in turn had the right of proposing a toast, but he 
had to do it as described above. 

The drinking of a large number of bumpers led 
to wild scenes, and supper-parties often ended with 
the gallants being naked as well as tipsy. In such 
a state the more turbulent would sally forth to 
fight, or to beat the watch, or do any other mischief 
which might enter their excited heads. 




A MAN OF FASHION IN ITOO. 
From an old print. 



CHAMPAGNE 269 

Charles II, it is curious to remember, first popu- 
larized champagne in London. During his exile he 
had learnt to appreciate the light and exhilarating 
wine, and when it began to be shipped to England, 
the King and St. Evremond brought it into fashion. 
The latter would never drink any other wine. At 
first, as no regular commercial relations existed 
between the Rheims or Epernay growers and the 
London wine-merchants, supplies were difficult to 
obtain. Rich people usually bought the wine 
through some acquaintance residing in France, and 
often avoided the payment of duty by procuring it 
through an Ambassador. 

The champagne mostly drunk at suppers in those 
days was very different from the wine we drink to- 
day. It seems to have been greyish or yellowish 
in colour, not highly effervescent, but creaming. 

By the beginning of the nineteenth century it had 
developed into something very similar to the wine 
which we know. For a time the Prince Regent 
was very fond of it, but, owing to the large amount 
of spirits and strong liqueurs which he and his 
friends drank, they eventually became unable to 
appreciate the delicate produce of the Marne. 
Champagne was then desecrated by being mixed 
with madeira, hock, cura9oa, and other ingredients, 
to form a most unwholesome compound known as 
" Regent's punch." 

It seems strange that the " first gentleman in 
Europe " should have been fond of such a mixture, 
for, in spite of his many failings, George IV was 
not by any means a mere coarse and uncultured 
man of pleasure. 



270 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

With all his faults, he was a man of taste. The 
painter, the sculptor, the author, the actor — all 
were alike the objects of his bounty and protection, 
and all acknowledged his liberality and kindness of 
heart. His collection of pictures alone afforded 
ample evidence of his cultivated taste in the fine 
arts. His love of architectural display, though in 
some instances apt to be rather more curious than 
correct, was, on the whole, associated with ideas of 
grandeur and splendid improvement. Windsor 
Castle, rebuilt rather than restored by Wyattville, 
is an enduring monument of his regal idea of 
building — besides which, he left his mark upon 
London. Although he could not realize the boast 
of Augustus, that he found "the metropolis of 
brick and left it marble," yet, under his auspices, 
a great part of the town underwent a transforma- 
tion. 

His most original conception was the Pavilion at 
Brighton, the highly original style of which has 
been so adversely criticized. Nevertheless, it is 
noticeable that, at the present day, the Chinese 
fashion which he adopted is once more in high 
favour with people of acknowledged taste. At the 
present time the Pavilion, stripped as it is of most 
of its original decoration and furniture, is not un- 
naturally somewhat desolate and forlorn ; but even 
now some of the rooms bear evidence of the real 
taste and skill which animated the artists employed 
upon the interior. 

In its palmy days the Marine Palace of the Prince 
Regent was the scene of much revelry and carous- 
ing. Here it was that the famous, some might call 



AN UNCONVENTIONAL DUKE 271 

it infamous, joke was played upon the eccentric old 
Duke of Norfolk, of convivial memory. Dining 
one night with the Prince and his merry crew of 
associates. His Grace, who had consumed many 
bumpers, at length called for his carriage. Wlien 
it came round, some of the roysterers instructed the 
postillions, instead of making straight for Arundel, 
to keep on driving round and round the grounds 
surrounding the Pavilion, until the Duke, who was 
half asleep, should discover the joke. 

It was not till many a mile had been covered in 
this manner that His Grace woke up. Upon dis- 
covering the trick which had been played, he was 
exceedingly angry. Of very independent views, he 
w^as not a man to be trifled with. 

At a race ordinary at Hereford, finding the so- 
called wine quite undrinkable, he very quickly 
summoned the unworthy host of the hotel, and fill- 
ing him a half-pint bumper of the atrocious mixture 
he had sent to the guests, addressed him gravely 
thus: "Landlord, the company and myself are so 
delighted with the exquisite flavour of the vintage 
that we have drunk your health, and have now sent 
for you to return thanks and drink ours in return 
in a bumper." In vain did the culprit attempt to 
excuse himself. The Duke was peremptory ; the 
poor wretch could only get down half the precious 
liquid. He felt the rebuke ; the obnoxious stuff* 
was ordered away, and succeeded by the best wine 
in his cellar. 

As unconventional in his dress as in his utter- 
ances, this Duke once strolled into the coffee-room of 
the Old Hummums in Covent Garden, where a par- 



272 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

ticularly shabby old coat he was wearing attracted 
some attention. In nowise disconcerted, he or- 
dered dinner which, though it was the middle of 
winter, included a cucumber. The waiter — a new 
one — mistrusting the looks of the guest, went to 
confer with the landlord. '' There's that shabby 
old fellow," he said, "has ordered a cowcumber, and 
you know, sir, that they're half a guinea apiece in 
the market." The landlord peeped round the corner 
of his little private hatch, recognized his customer, 
rubbed his hands, and said, softly smiling to his 
servitor : "A cucumber, John — a cucumber ? Yes, 
John ; give him six." 

Though the Pavilion has long been dismantled, a 
good idea of the original scheme of decoration and 
furnishing may still be formed. It is easy to see 
that the whole place was planned with great 
attention to detail. 

The Prince Regent evidently took care that his 
own ideas should be closely followed, the result of 
which is occasionally surprising. 

One of the most extraordinary apartments is 
George IV's bedroom, a room with an enormous 
number of doors, some of which, no doubt, enabled 
its royal occupant to ramble all over the building 
without attracting attention. 

When the late King Edward VII visited 
Brighton, he was fond of taking a look at the old 
abode of his royal kinsman of a vanished era. 

Strolling round the old place one day, and open- 
ing the door of the royal bedroom, he found it filled 
with a crowd of children having a dancing lesson. 
The attendant wished to stop them so that the King 



KINDLY EDWARD VII 273 

might enter. " Do not disturb them," said Edward 
VII. " I think they look dehghtful dancing in the 
sunhght," and softly closing the door, the good- 
hearted monarch withdrew. 

A curious contrast this innocent scene as com- 
pared with some of those which must have occurred 
in this room in the days of the free-living Florizel. 

George I V's first real love-affair appears to have 
been with the celebrated " Perdita," the beautiful 
and fascinating Mrs. Robinson ; and if the story 
which she published is to be credited, the liaison 
was for some time carried on under circumstances 
almost romantic. His connection with her, how- 
ever, though most ardent during its continuance, 
was not of any protracted length ; and though 
she herself for some length of time survived its 
conclusion, the latter years of her life were 
marked by bodily affliction and sufferings of the 
most painful kind, and a rapid decline at last hurried 
her to an almost welcome grave. It is said that 
to the end the Prince manifested the greatest 
solicitude and concern in her fate ; and the lock of 
hair which she sent to him from her death -bed was 
certainly received by him with all the emotions of 
regard and love. 

The woman of all others, however, who most 
strongly enchained his affections, and held him 
most firmly, was Mrs. Fitzherbert. For many years 
his attachment to, and relations with, this lady 
were marked by all the constancy and devotion that 
exists, or should exist, in the strictness of married 
life. So devoted, indeed, was he to her, and of so 
tender a nature did the connection appear to be, that 

18 



274 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

it required the solemn and public asseveration of 
Fox, on the express authority of the Prince, to 
satisfy the country that no marriage ceremony had 
taken place. 

In spite of the strong declaration to the contrary, 
however, we now know that such a ceremony was 
actually solemnized. 

This secret marriage with Mrs. Fitzherbert was a 
proof that the Prince then still retained the romantic 
disposition which dissipation generally tends to stifle. 
To his honour it should be remembered that to the 
latest period of his life a warm and undying friend- 
ship was evinced by King George IV for the 
woman whom, in other days, the Prince of Wales 
had worshipped with all the fervour and enthusiasm 
of passion. 

The connection with Mrs. Fitzherbert was 
naturally dissolved at the time of the unfortunate 
marriage of expediency with Caroline of Brunswick. 

A more ill-assorted union than the latter, or one 
in which there was a less prospect of mutual happi- 
ness, can surely never have been arranged in all 
the annals of sovereignty. The affections of both 
parties were already notoriously engaged elsewhere ; 
their tastes, their habits, their manners, were as 
widely and hopelessly different from each other as 
the most refined elegance and the most elaborate 
coarseness ; their tempers were as irreconcilable as 
their tastes. 

It was a most unhappy union. The Prince, as is 
well known, eventually incurred in this, as in some 
other matters, considerable unpopularity owing 
to his injudicious behaviour ; indeed, the nation 



A SPORTING PRINCE 275 

became split up into two parties — those who were 
for him, and those who took the side of his equally 
injudicious wife. 

His behaviour towards his Queen is the most 
unpleasant thing which clings about the memory 
of George IV; for in the Turf scandal in which he 
became involved in 1791 he may possibly have been 
wrongly judged. 

In his youthful days, amongst other forms of dissi- 
pation, George IV was passionately devoted to 
racing. An ardent high-spirited youth, endowed 
by Nature and perfected by education with every 
fatal attraction of person and demeanour — with the 
temperament which he possessed, with the com- 
mand of fortune which he enjoyed — and with a 
crowd of courtiers around him, each one more 
anxious than the other to gratify and encourage the 
desires rather than to regulate or repress the passions 
of their master, it is scarcely extraordinary that 
this Prince, after having been drawn into the 
vortex of pleasure, should have lapsed into habits 
of extravagance and dissipation. 

In 1791, the Prince's horse Escape, by High- 
flyer, at that time considered as good a horse as 
any on the Turf, was engaged in two stakes at 
Newmarket on October 20 and 21, having in 
each opposed to him Lord Grosvenor's Skylark. 
Escape was the favourite for both his races. In 
the first race the betting was 2 to 1 on Escape, 
4 to 1 against Coriander, and 5 to 1 against Skylark. 
Coriander won, and, contrary to all expectation, 
and apparently much to the mortification of his 
royal master, who insisted that his orders had 



276 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

been disobeyed by his jockey in riding, Escape came 
in last, instead of first. In consequence of this, 
the odds rose, of course, to 4 and 5 to 1 against the 
latter horse for his next race to be run on the 
morrow. Here again, unfortunately, the glorious 
uncertainty of the Turf was manifested, and 
Escape came in an easy winner, beating Skylark, 
who had beaten him the day previous, as well as a 
field of four other horses. 

This very unexpected result occasioned a scene 
of the greatest confusion and clamour, the racing 
public — in those days inclined to be turbulent and 
rough — being highly incensed and making no secret 
of their irritation. 

Accusations of foul play were heard on all sides. 
The Prince's jockey and the Prince himself were 
openly charged with having purposely conspired 
to lose the race on the 20th. It was distinctly 
said that both of them had won a large stake by 
each event. Many people, indeed, refused publicly 
to pay their bets until an inquiry had been in- 
stituted. The behaviour of the manager of the 
Prince's stud, it is said, seemed to give encourage- 
ment to the current rumours ; and the prevailing 
opinion appears to have been that "there was 
something wrong." 

Be this as it may, the Prince's colours were not 
seen upon the Turf for close upon a decade after 
this unfortunate race, which was the origin of 
much clamour and vituperation against him. 

On December 10, 1792, the whole of his stud 
was brought unreservedly to the hammer. The 
ruling passion, however, remained predominant in 



NEWMARKET 277 

him, and in 1800 his colours once more reappeared 
upon the race-course. Never, however, did he 
completely surmount the dislike he had contracted 
for Newmarket ; the recollection of the highly un- 
pleasant scene there, in which, to his great annoy- 
ance, he had been the principal figure, lingered in 
his mind, and he could not forget the treatment 
to which he had been subjected in connection with 
racing on the classic heath. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE FIRST GENTLEMAN IN EUROPE — ENGLISH EXILES 
AT CALAIS BRUMMELL BARBEY d'aUREVILLY 

d'orsay 

Whilst George IV, as Prince Regent, loved 
racing, he was also a patron of many other sports. 
As no man was ever blessed with a finer or more 
vigorous constitution, so no one ever put his 
powers so constantly to the test ; to use an old 
sporting phrase, " he was at all in the Ring," 
either of luxury or sport, and, exhausting every 
known enjoyment, like the monarch of old, he 
would, perhaps, have offered a very tempting 
reward to the inventor of a new pleasure. 

As a young man, he was a very liberal patron 
and supporter of the Ring ; and it is a notorious 
matter of fact, that in the use of the gloves very few 
amateurs in the kingdom could at all approach him. 

An ardent lover of the chase, he was at different 
times master of foxhounds, of staghounds, and of 
harriers. 

In his young days, when driving was highly 
popular with men of fashion, the Prince, who 
possessed some wonderful roadsters, performed 
very remarkable feats of coachmanship between the 
Pavilion at Brighton and Carlton House. 

Those were the days of famous amateur chario- 

278 



THE FOUR-IN-HAND CLUB 279 

teers like the spendthrift Baronet, Sir John Lade, a 
reckless man of pleasure, who survived most of his 
contemporaries, and died aged eighty in 1837, his 
only means of support in his last years having been 
an allowance granted him by his old associate 
George IV, which, in spite of cruel suggestions 
that it should be stopped, was most generously 
continued by Queen Victoria. 

The most remarkable feat ever performed by 
Sir John was driving the off- wheels of his phaeton 
over a sixpence, by which he won a wager. 
Although the Four-in-hand Club were afterwards 
more celebrated for trick-driving, the wild Baronet 
was ever considered preeminent among the most 
celebrated Jehus of his day. 

The Four-in-hand Club, and other associations 
of amateur whips which emanated or branched off 
from it, though it was stigmatized as absurd and 
useless, and even low and degrading, really did 
the public good service, for it originated modern 
improvements in travelling, and the unrivalled ten- 
mile-an-hour safety coaches. The whole art and 
science was studied and brought to perfection 
by amateur coachmen, and was afterwards applied 
to the public benefit mainly by their efforts. 

As he grew older and more weighty, George IV 
ceased to be seen upon the box-seat ; but to the very 
end of his life he was fond of carriage exercise, and 
was often driven out by Lady Conyngham in a 
pony-chaise. Out for a drive in this one day, the 
two beautiful little Highland animals which drew 
it, overpowered by the weight of royalty, turned 
restive, and would not stir an inch. In vain did 



280 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

the Sovereign apply the lash, in vain did the 
attendants pull at them ; even the soft and rosy 
palm of her ladyship — which could do wonders in 
the coaxing and persuasive line — had no effect ; the 
attendants were out of breath, and the lady was out 
of patience ; the somewhat weighty monarch, how- 
ever, did not lose his temper, but coolly ordered one 
of his servants to fetch a carriage. " It would 
require an Act of Parliament," said he, "to move 
these Northern rebels ; but I must say one thing in 
their favour — they are true game, for they seem as 
if they would rather die than run." 

In his later years George IV was occasionally to 
be seen driving in the Park in a closed carriage with 
outriders, as pictured in the reproduction of a scarce 
print which forms the frontispiece of this volume. 

In his youth the King had enjoyed quite a 
reputation for wit. Hunting in company with a 
distinguished emigre, and coming to a very broad 
ditch, the Prince remarked that it was a desperate 
leap. " I have jumped twice as far," said the 
Frenchman, upon which, with a smile, his royal 
host observed, " That is a great stretch." 

On another occasion, hunting with his royal 
father near Windsor, he perceived a great dandy 
amongst the field, and inquired who he was. 
He was informed that he was in the habit of 
attending the hunt in great style, and had been 
taken by the country-people for some lord, but 
that, in fact, he was no other than a rich tanner. 
"Well," said the then Prince of Wales, "let him 
pass off for a lord if he likes ; we will call him Lord 
Hide — the title sounds very well indeed." 



WELTJIE 281 

Whilst keenly resenting any opposition to his 
will, George IV possessed a sound sense of justice, 
as was shown by his behaviour when Louis Weltjie, 
his clerk, cook, and purveyor, both at Carlton 
House and the Pavilion at Brighton, came to com- 
plain that a subordinate had dared to marry his 
daughter. 

With great indignation Weltjie represented the 
disgrace and degradation of his family by so humble 
an alliance, and warmly solicited the dismissal of 
the offender. The good sense of his patron saw the 
matter in a very different light, and induced him 
to observe that the inequality was not so great as 
to outrage the feelings or wound the pride of a 
man who could not entirely forget his own former 
situation. He was, therefore, advised to make the 
best of the affair, and reconcile himself cordially 
with his son-in-law and daughter. Instead of pru- 
dently adopting this counsel, the enraged father 
persisted in urging the discharge of the offender 
against the dignity of his family, threatening to 
consign both husband and wife to indigence ; to 
prevent which, the Prince Regent discharged 
Weltjie himself, and put the son-in-law into his 
lucrative situation. 

This was far from being the only occasion upon 
which the " First Gentleman in Europe" manifested 
kindly feeling towards his dependents. 

Being at Brighton, and going rather earlier than 
usual to visit his stud, he inquired of a groom, 
" Where is Tom Cross ? Is he unwell ? I have 
missed him for some days." 

" Please, your Royal Highness, he is gone away." 



THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

" Gone away ! What for ?" 

" Please, your Royal Highness " — hesitating — " I 

believe — but — Mr. can inform your Royal 

Highness." 

"I desire to know, sir, of you — what has he 
done ?" 

" I believe — your Royal Highness — something — 
not — quite correct — something about the oats." 

" Where is Mr. ? Send him to me imme- 
diately." 

The Prince appeared much disturbed at this dis- 
covery. The absent one, quite a youth, was the 
son of an old groom who had died in the Prince's 
service. 

The officer of the stable appeared before the 
Prince. 

" Where is Tom Cross ? What is become of 
him r 

" I do not know, your Royal Highness." 

" What has he been doing ?" 

" Purloining the oats, your Royal Highness ; and 
I discharged him." 

" What ! Sir, send him away without acquaint- 
ing me ! — not know whither he is gone ! — a father- 
less boy ! — driven into the world from my service 
with a blighted character ! Why, the poor fellow 
will be destroyed ! Fie ! I did not expect this of 
you, sir ! Seek him out, and let me not see you 
until you have discovered him." 

Tom was found, and brought before his royal 
master. He hung down his head, while the tears 
trickled from his eyes. 

After looking steadfastly at him for some 



A ROYAL COMPOSER 283 

moments, " Tom, Tom," said the Prince, " what 
have you been doing ? Happy it is for your poor 
father that he is gone ; it would have broken his 
poor heart to have seen you in such a situation. I 
hope this is your first offence ?" 

The youth wept bitterly. 

" Ah, Tom, I am glad to see that you are peni- 
tent. Your father was an honest man. I had a 
great respect for him ; so I should have for you, if 
you were a good lad for his sake. Now, if I desire 

Mr. to take you into the stable again, think 

you that I may trust you ?" 

Tom wept still more vehemently, implored for- 
giveness, and promised reformation. 

" Well, then," said the gracious Prince, " you 
shall be restored. Avoid evil company. Go, and 
recover your character. Be diligent, be honest, and 
make me your friend ; and — hark ye, Tom — 1 will 
take care that no one shall ever taunt you with 
what is past." 

George IV, as is well known, was very fond of 
music. It is not, however, so generally known 
that he was a composer of some merit. 

The following anecdote not only proves this, but 
shows the kindly feeling which, as has before been 
said, occasionally prompted his actions. 

After the death of Saxton, the organist of St. 
George's Chapel, Windsor, great interest was made 
by several professors of eminence to succeed to that 
honourable and lucrative situation. Old Home, 
the music-master, who taught the King and other 
members of his august family in their juvenile days, 
was at this time between seventy and eighty years 



284 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

of age, and very low in his circumstances, as a result 
of losses and other untoward events. The fact was 
mentioned to His Majesty by one of the Lords- 
in- Waiting, who at the same time ventured to add, 
that the existing vacancy would enable the poor old 
man to weather the storms of life, and pass the 
remainder of his days in competency and ease. His 
Majesty expressed his astonishment, and could 
scarcely credit that his old tutor was still living, 
or that, if so, he had not applied to his former pupil, 
stating his embarrassments. Modest merit is always 
dumb. Home "knew if he had made his case 
known, he should have been relieved ; but he dared 
not intrude his sufferings on his gracious master's 
attention." The fact, however, of his situation being 
thus brought to His Majesty's notice, he ordered 
his carriage, and proceeded immediately to canvass 
the canons and other dignitaries in whose gift the 
appointment lay ; they had made their promises, 
but, nevertheless, as the King's wishes were equal to 
law, Home was nominated to the vacancy. Wish- 
ing, however, to gratify the old man by himself 
announcing the joyful tidings, His Majesty com- 
manded him to attend at the Royal Lodge. Such 
an unexpected summons distressed him. " How 
could he appear before His Majesty, with a ward- 
robe not fit to visit a private friend ? But," ob- 
served the gratified veteran, " it is not the coat, it 
is the man the King wants to see. I must, I will 
go ;" and he took a change of linen and proceeded 
to Windsor. On his arrival at the Lodge, he was 
received with kindness by the major-domo, and 
refreshments were placed before him, with an 



1 



HORNE 285 

intimation that his attendance would be required 
in the course of the evening in the drawing-room. 
That time arrived, and the old man, on entering, 
was overpowered by the condescending affability 
with which he was received. The King, surrounded 
by the brilliant circle of his private friends, rose 
from his seat, and, taking poor Home by the hand, 
led him to the piano, requesting him to give once 
more a specimen of that skill which had entranced 
his juvenile mind. This was too much ; he sat 
down overpowered with contending emotions, and 
the modest tear trickled from his aged eyes. He 
forgot everything, ran his fingers over the keys in 
the most abstracted manner, and was any thing but 
himself. A few affectionate words revived him ; 
and, as if inspired by the sudden recollection of days 
gone by, he struck off a fantasia, which he per- 
formed Avith all the execution of his prime. The 
King was delighted, and, having only a slight re- 
collection of the air, asked what it was. The old 
man could no longer contain his joy. " That air, 
your Majesty, was composed by my pupil His 
Royal Highness the Prince of Wales when he 
was eighteen years of age." The King was highly 
gratified ; he had composed it in the early period 
of his life, had entirely forgotten it, and, as the 
professor said, he also had lost sight of it for 
upwards of forty years, when it suddenly flashed on 
his memory, as a bright meteor suddenly enlightens 
the darkened sky. 

The old man was moved almost to tears when 
George IV, pressing his hand, told him of the 
appointment he was to have. Probably the ten 



286 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

days before his induction to the Organ Gallery, 
during which he was entertained at the Lodge, were 
the happiest he ever passed. 

As the years crept on, the excesses to which 
George IV had occasionally been addicted told 
upon his constitution ; and at the end of his life, 
almost blind and mentally exhausted, he used, 
it was said, to be firmly convinced that he had com- 
manded a division at the Battle of Waterloo. 

No man probably ever spent so much money on 
clothes ; after his demise his wardrobes were found 
to contain numberless suits, which formed, as it 
were, an epitome of men's fashions for a period of 
fifty years. 

At the time of his death he had long ceased to 
be the captivating Prince Florizel ; corpulency had 
robbed him of his good looks. 

As a young man, George IV is said to have been 
strikingly handsome, and some of his earlier por- 
traits confirm this. In course of time, how- 
ever, his appearance became much impaired by his 
growing obesity, no doubt very largely produced 
by his method of living. He never seems to 
have placed any check upon his appetite, and, 
whilst not a drunkard, he was at times anything 
but temperate. That is to say, when he took a 
fancy to any particular kind of drink he indulged 
freely in it. At one time he consumed very large 
quantities of port ; in the last years of his life, 
however, cherry brandy seems to have taken its 
place. 

Maraschino was one of his favourite liqueurs 
during the time he gave elaborate dinners and 



BRUMMELL 287 

suppers at Carlton House. Poor Brummell re- 
membered this, and sent a few bottles as a humble 
offering when the King stopped at Calais on his 
way to Boulogne in 1821. George IV, who in this 
case was very unforgiving, took no notice whatever 
of the ruined old dandy's tribute ; indeed, he 
seemed to pride himself upon having ignored his 
former favourite, for as he went away he said, with 
an air of relief, " Well, I've left Calais and I haven't 
seen Brummell." Nevertheless, when, on his ap- 
pointment as Consul at Caen, the latter sold some 
furniture and china, the King is said to have paid 
200 guineas for a tea-service. 

Even when hard pressed for money, the former 
arbiter of fashion could not resist indulging in 
useless extravagance ; and before leaving to take 
up his new appointment, Brummell went to Paris 
and spent most of the proceeds of this sale. The 
money went largely in the purchase of useless 
things — amongst them a snuff-box, for which he 
paid £100 — about the whole of his annual income, 
after deducting the claims of creditors ! 

During his residence at Calais, Brummell does 
not appear to have made any attempt to ingratiate 
himself with his fellow- exiles, so many of whom, at 
that time, lived in the French town — mainly, as it 
was cynically said, upon the interest of the money 
which they owed to their creditors. All sorts and 
conditions of men were to be seen in its quaint 
streets — from the ruined man of fashion, who had 
driven on to Newmarket Heath in a carriage with 
outriders, to the broken-down old officer who, with a 
stubborn courage worthy of an ancient Roman, con- 



28S THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

tentedly continued to blaze away at his liver with 
continual doses of cognac, whilst inflating what 
remained to him of lungs with cheap tobacco- 
smoke. 

Calais was long a home of refuge for fashionable 
Englishmen who had outrun the constable ; there 
the hunted spendthrift was safe from arrest. The 
narrow streets of the old town seemed a comparative 
paradise in brick and mortar to men who, but a 
dozen hours previously, might have been seen flat- 
tening their high-bred noses against the plate-glass 
windows of White's and other fashionable West 
End resorts. 

A great notability in the town during the earlier 
part of the last century, was Jemmy Urquhart, a 
pensioned clerk of the Navy Pay Office, who had 
squandered a fortune in eating, drinking, carriage- 
horses, and the Ring. 

Involved in a perpetual coil of difficulty. Jemmy, 
to avoid being finally checkmated, crossed the 
Channel and took refuge in Calais, where he soon 
became a general favourite. No one excelled him 
in the rare art of telUng a tale gracefully, yet with 
piquancy ; and his memory was so good as to secure 
his audience from anything like a repetition of the 
same story. One of his many eccentricities con- 
sisted in a morbid penchant for executions, and his 
museum exhibited a strange array of halters, fetters, 
and other sickening relics of the gallows. 

Being a personal friend of Fauntleroy, the exe- 
cuted forger, Jemmy Urquhart practised the greatest 
act of self-denial ever recorded of him through life 
He actually endeavoured to aid the wretched man 



JEMMY URQUHART 289 

to commit self-destruction in prison, and generously 
waived the gratification of seeing him " turned off." 

For this purpose he conveyed a quill full of 
prussic acid into Newgate, and begged Fauntleroy 
to make use of it when not noticed by the guards 
of his cell ; but the condemned and unnerved man 
fell upon Urquhart's shoulder, and declared that 
he had not the courage to commit the act, and 
must meet the fate that awaited him. 

Whereupon Jemmy, relieved from further qualms, 
and " actuated by the best motives," hired a window 
immediately opposite the scaffold and witnessed the 
last moments of his friend, as if assisting at the 
farewell appearance of some favourite actor ! 

Jemmy Urquhart's next best pleasure to a 
" hanging match " consisted in a little amateur 
cookery at his own or any friend's house where he 
was a welcome guest. 

To the dismay of the cook, he often arrived 
an hour before the dinner-hour, descended into 
the kitchen, tucked up his sleeves, and set to work 
concocting some peculiar dish of his own. 

Yet, though he had a glorious appetite, and 
sometimes was so pressed as to be under the 
necessity of borrowing a franc to release a letter, 
he never forgot that he was a gentleman. Against 
beer and tobacco he entertained the strongest 
aversion, saying they were only fit for low 
society. His coolness was extraordinary. Durmg 
a dangerous illness, calmly turning to the clergy- 
man at his bedside, he asked him if he " knew 
the winner of the Derby "—the race having been 

run on the previous day. 

19 



290 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

He lived in alternate perplexity and luxury, as 
his pension arrived and disappeared ; and died from 
the effects of a fall down his breakneck staircase, in 
the Rue des Marechaux, in the seventy-third year 
of his age. 

A friend of Urquhart named Berkeley, also an 
exiled resident of Calais, was so deeply involved in 
debt in that town that he was put under the 
closest surveillance — so close, indeed, as to be sub- 
ject to annoyance and espionage if he ventured to 
set his foot near a steamer, or even near the port. 

Under Jemmy's scientific tutelage, as it is believed, 
this man escaped to England in open daylight, and 
in the sight of hundreds of spectators. 

Berkeley rode a nice chestnut cob, and every fine 
day laved his horse's legs in the rippling tide, 
within hail of the prowling doitaniers, as if doing a 
little equine hydropathy " quite promiscuously," as 
his groom might have expressed it. 

One fine, breezy day in early autumn a Deal 
pilot-boat stood close inshore as Berkeley took his 
accustomed ride. He was engaged in washing 
his pony's legs as usual at dead low water, and had 
immersed him this time up to his girths. Suddenly 
he flung himself from his saddle, struck out in 
vigorous style for the open sea, and in a surprisingly 
short time reached his confederates. 

When the cob arrived at his stables the friendly 
yawl was hull-down on the Channel. This exploit 
of Berkeley was long afterwards cited in the cafes 
as a splendid coup. 

Mr. Apperley, the well-known sporting writer, 
who had assumed the title of " Nimrod," resided 



I 



I 



EXILED ENGLISHMEN 291 

near Calais for several years. He had a very com- 
fortable house, with gardens laid out in the English 
style, on the banks of the canal between Calais and 
the Basseville, and appears to have been equally 
respected and regretted by all who had the pleasure 
of his acquaintance. 

On the sad death of the young Duke of Orleans, 
poor Nimrod lost one of his most staunch patrons, 
and only survived him a few years ; his days being 
shortened, as it is believed, by the mental anxiety 
he suffered on account of his pecuniary affairs. 

As a delineator of " turf," " road," and " hunting " 
scenes, Mr. Apperley may fairly be said to have 
been unrivalled. 

Whilst a large proportion of the foreign residents 
of Calais and Boulogne were exiles against their 
will, a good many half-pay officers were to be 
found there, not because England had become too 
hot for them, but on account of the cheapness with 
which they could live. A more favourite abode, 
however, with this latter class was the Isle of Man. 

At one time, the island, like the Continent, was 
an asylum where all were free from arrest for debts 
contracted elsewhere, and was, for that reason, full 
of " raffish " characters. 

At one of the inns hi Douglas a sort of mess was 
established, consisting of several officers of the army 
and navy on half-pay, having for its perpetual 
president a gentleman long known upon the Turf 
in the North of England. The rules were not 
strait-laced, and strangers were admitted to join 
their dinner-table. Most of the old officers were 
in the habit of declaring "that Douglas was the 



292 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

most wretched place on earth wherehi to drag on 
a miserable existence, saving always Castletown, 
Peel, or Ramsay." On one occasion, a visitor, 
having questioned a fine copper-nosed old gentle- 
man, who had served under Rodney at Cape 
St. Vincent, as to his motives for sojourning there- 
abouts, was told, " We victims of half-pay have 
no choice left ; either vegetate here, or go else- 
where and die outright — Hobson's choice. At any 
rate, we can get the necessaries of life, which is 
something as the world wags." 

The visitor ventured to remark that, as far as 
he could see, there seemed scarcely any difference 
between the prices and the general average in Eng- 
land : beef, mutton, and veal were about the same ; 
poultry and vegetables were a little cheaper ; but 
fruit balanced the account. " My dear sir," said the 
Lieutenant, " you entirely misunderstand me ; the 
things you name may be important to civilians, but 
they give us little or no concern. Half a pint of 
split peas and a bloater may serve any man's turn, 
if so be he ain't a Lord Mayor or a Common 
Councilman. No, no ; when you hear an oldster of 
the Service speak of the necessaries of life, what he 
means is wine, brandy, and tobacco." 

At Calais the broken-down bucks and dandies 
were generally to be seen at the end of the pier, 
their eyes fixed upon the shadowy cliffs of England, 
their thoughts upon the " sweet shady side " of far- 
away Pall Mall, which the folly and extravagance 
of a wild youth would probably prevent most of 
them from ever seeing again. 

The era of the Regency largely helped to increase 



BUCK WHALLEY 293 

the number of English exiles. In addition to the 
many temptations to which young men of fortune 
were exposed, the education the majority received 
was frequently pernicious. 

The sort of life led by a young gentleman of 
fortune sent abroad to perfect himself may be 
realized from a perusal of Buck Whalley's Diary, a 
most interesting manuscript only published in book- 
form a few years ago. 

Thomas Whalley had a property of £10,000 per 
annum, left him by his father. At the age of six- 
teen he was sent to Paris to learn the French 
language, and to accomplish himself in the arts of 
dancing, fencing, etc. He was placed under the 
care of a gentleman who had formerly been in the 
army, and who, having spent a good part of his 
life on the Continent, was supposed to be a fit 
person to undertake the direction of young 
Whalley's studies. It soon, however, appeared 
that the tutor had not the ability to check the 
volatile disposition of his pupil ; Mr. Whalley pur- 
chased horses and hounds, took a house in Paris 
and another in the country, each of which was 
open for the reception of his friends. His finances, 
ample as they were, were found inadequate to the 
support of his extraordinary expenses ; and with 
the hope of supplying his deficiencies, he had 
recourse to the gaming-table, which only increased 
his embarrassments. In one night he lost upwards 
of £14,000. The bill which he drew upon his 
banker, La Touche, in Dubhn, for this sum, was 
sent back protested, and it became necessary for 
him to quit Paris. He returned to England, and 



294 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

his creditors (or rather, the people who had 
swindled him out of this money) were glad to com- 
pound for half the sum. 

Whalley subsequently won a wager of £15,000 
by going to Jerusalem at a day's notice. He died 
aged thirty-three, having settled down after a wild 
life. 

He may be said to have been a fortunate man of 
pleasure, for his last years were not rendered miser- 
able by impecuniosity. 

Another fairly lucky one was the celebrated 
Captain Mellish, a man of great charm, who, having 
expended a fine fortune upon the Turf, where, in 
spite of lavish expenditure, he never won either 
the Derby or the Oaks, was very happily married 
to a lady with means, and ended his life — it is 
true, at a comparatively early age — as a prosperous 
and respected country gentleman. 

Most of the gay sparks, however, once their 
fortunes were gone, fell upon very evil days. Some 
few tried to make money by work, but success 
rarely crowned their efforts. One, for instance, 
invented a razor-strop, and, that failing to be pro- 
ductive, he turned " black-diamond " merchant. In 
the coal trade he had better luck than he had 
experienced on the Turf; for, although, as usual, 
utterly unsuccessful, he had nothing to lose on the 
undertaking. 

The usual end of the spendthrift of those days 
was to be obliged to betake himself across the 
Channel, and the nearest most of them ever got to 
London again was the end of Calais Pier. 

This pier extended so far that people used to call 



I 




■• A BUCK INDEED 

SINGS, DANCES, FIGHTS, DOES EVERYTHING BUT READ." 

From an old print. 



THE END OF A DANDY 295 

taking a turn on it going halfway to England. 
Here it was that Brummell, the ex-king of the 
dandies, somewhat farcical in his mock-majesty, 
used to take his solitary exercise, perambulating 
the planks in solemn and exclusive dignity — to 
most people amusingly ridiculous. He was, it is 
said, never seen to condescend to notice anyone, 
except by a slight bend of the head. This, of 
course, did not apply to visitors from England like 
Lord Alvanley — another prodigal man of pleasure — 
and the Honourable Martin Hawke, who had been 
his boon companions in his prosperous days. 

Notwithstanding his wretched financial position, 
Brummell continued to exhibit a good deal of that 
arrogance for which he had always been notorious. 

On taking up his consulship at Caen he showed 
the greatest coolness towards the officials of the 
Government, preferring that portion of the local 
society which regarded Louis Philippe as an 
usurper. 

The Prefect having omitted to ask Brummell to 
the dinner given on the King's fete-day, he did not 
attend the official ball which followed. Someone 
asked him why he had not gone to pay his respects 
to the King. " What King ?" said the old beau. 
" The King of France." " Oh, I suppose you 
mean the Due d'Orleans. I sent my valet," was 
the reply. 

At that time he had not yet sunk into the state 
of mental decrepitude which overtook him before 
his end in 1840. Nevertheless, a few years later, 
being asked by a lady to write something in an 
album, he drew a broken-down Cupid with a 



296 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

shattered bow, and wrote beneath it the symbolical 
words, "The Broken Bow " — a very apt summing-up 
of his unfortunate career. Though, as in this 
instance, he could be gallant enough with ladies, 
Brummell was never particularly popular with them ; 
not a few of the fair sex whom he met in society 
feared and distrusted him. 

Only when he realized that he was tottering 
on the brink of ruin did he make unsuccessful 
attempts to effect a good marriage ; but he never 
appears to have been very susceptible to feminine 
charms. There is no record of his having had any 
serious liaison or love-affair — indeed, he was 
essentially not a woman's man. 

His failure to please the ladies may, in a way, be 
said to have conduced towards his ruin, for Mrs. 
Fitzherbert hated the beau, and, it is said, never 
failed to impress upon her royal lover that Brummell 
was always making fun of him behind his back. 

According to one account, he incurred the un- 
dying enmity of the lady when leaving a ball by 
telling the servants to go and call the carriage of 
Mistress Fitzherbert. He is also supposed to have 
nicknamed her "Benina," an allusion to her increas- 
ing figure ; the Prince Regent having already been 
called " Big Ben " by Brummell, on account of a 
supposed likeness to a corpulent porter at Carlton 
House. 

There is no doubt that there were some grounds 
for her accusations. When in high favour with the 
Prince, Brummell was excessively unwise in con- 
stantly teasing and laughing at him even to 
his face. 



BARBEY D'AUREVILLY 297 

On occasion, for instance, he would pretend not 
to know who the Prince was when he was getting 
out of a carriage or entering a building, and gravely 
acknowledge the salute of sentries as if intended for 
himself. 

The influence which Brummell exerted upon his 
generation and that which succeeded it was very 
considerable. Witness the case of Barbey D'Aure- 
villy, who idolized the memory of the celebrated 
dandy and wrote his biography,* 

Sixty or seventy years ago, one must recollect, a 
well-known dandy, even as an old man, was the 
object of considerable admiration. 

The old beau is now an extinct type, but in 
former days he was fairly common in fashionable 
Paris and London. Many a one made no secret of 
the pride he took in fighting against the ravages of 
time. If, said Barbey D'Aurevilly, it was an 
heroic sentiment for the Old Guard at Waterloo to 
die rather than to surrender, it is no less heroic to 
face old age in the same manner. In the latter 
battle, in addition, there is no "poetry of the 
bayonet " to strike our imagination. 

No one acted more up to this principle than 
Barbey D'Aurevilly himself, who, up to the end of 
his life, in 1889, adhered in a great measure to the 
dress which he bad worn as a " lion," or dandy, of 
1840. 

A quaint figure he looked in his close-fitting 
frock-coat and frilled shirt, with cuffs turned over 
the ends of his sleeves. The most extraordinary 

* Admirably translated into English some years ago by 
Mr. Douglas Ainslie. 



THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

effect of all was when he wore tight-fitting white 
trousers with a stripe of coloured satin at the sides. 
Though undoubtedly picturesque, the appearance 
of the biographer of Brummell was greatly im- 
paired by the blackness of his nails, produced by 
his habit of constantly passing his hands through 
his hair, which he kept dyed as black as ink. 

Even when a very old man, Barbey D'Aurevilly 
considered himself irresistible with the fair sex, 
an opinion which sometimes led to ludicrous 
incidents. 

On one occasion, walking with some friends in 
the Champs Elysees, he encountered a damsel of 
dashing appearance, whom he at once approached 
with amorous proposals. Highly amused, she 
proceeded to meet these propositions in a most 
original manner. A fine strong girl, she took the 
old beau up in her arms and held him in the 
air like a doll ; then, having given him a good 
shaking, she set him breathless on his legs again. 
" 1 never met such a familiar woman," was the 
old dandy's remark as he walked away, little dis- 
concerted by what had occurred. 

Whilst it is rather difficult to realize how 
Brummell, a man of no family and poor intellectual 
attainments, ever rose to such eminence in the 
fashionable world, the case of Count D'Orsay is 
quite different. 

Society conducts its hospitalities on a very com- 
mercial basis. An individual is welcome because 
he is noble, illustrious, famous, or wealthy, and 
thus by his presence reflects credit on his host and 
hostess. If he is none of these things, he is invited 



COUNT D^ORSAY 299 

because he takes the place of the professional smger, 
musician, or entertainer. There is no obligation on 
either side. He gets his dinners out of society, and 
society gets its equivalent out of him. 

There were many reasons why D'Orsay should 
have been a welcome guest. To begin with, in 
addition to being by nature a man of distinction 
and refinement, as a dandy he created an im- 
pression, not by ostentation or display, but by the 
perfect elegance and simplicity of his dress,, as 
a man of the world by his culture and the per- 
fection of his manners. Besides this, he was tactful 
and diplomatic. In his case, there was no need for 
affectation ; he had but to be himself to delight 
and please. 

With all classes D'Orsay was popular, even with 
his tradesmen — whose bills he seldom paid. As a 
matter of fact, very few of them lost much by him, 
if they lost at all ; for he had such crowds of friends, 
he was so elegant and so much envied and aped by 
all the rich young fellows who constituted the golden 
youth of London, that a West End shopkeeper 
would not have been far out in his calculation if he 
had paid the spendthrift to call upon him on any 
afternoon towards three o'clock during the height 
of the season. His fiat was supreme on all points 
of dress and personal ornament. His taste in 
equipages, dinners, breakfasts, garden - parties, 
picnics, balls, and private theatricals was perfect. 
He could confer celebrity on an artist ; he could 
make almost any poor man rich but himself. 

One of the most striking proofs of his natural 
charm and tact was the impression he produced 



300 THE MAN OF PLEASURE 

upon Byron, who, almost after his first meeting 
with the young Frenchman, declared he was a 
rare specimen of the high-bred Frenchman of pre- 
Revolutionary days. No doubt D'Orsay flattered 
the poet, but Byron was not an easy man to please. 
D'Orsay was a real man of pleasure, full of life and 
fire, whilst Brummell was merely a sort of marion- 
ette, his main asset a colossal impudence. 

D'Orsay was essentially human, and he had 
almost feminine charm. He was constantly saying 
and doing things which pleased and amused people ; 
while, notwithstanding the very doubtful kind of 
life which he led, there was a good deal of old- 
world chivalry about him. 

One day a freethinking officer spoke disparag- 
ingly of the Virgin Mary. To the surprise of the 
company, D'Orsay immediately hurled his plate at 
the scoffer's head, and afterwards, it is said, fought 
a duel with him. 

He explained his behaviour by saying that, 
though not a religious man, he could not forget 
that the Virgin Mary was a woman, and he would 
allow no man to speak insultingly of a woman in 
his hearing. 

There was something of the spirit of the Middle 
Ages about this, and, indeed, many incongruities 
of D'Orsay 's character belonged to that period. 

In a way, for instance, he lived on a woman — 
Lady Blessington. Nevertheless, he ruined himself 
with her, and remained in love with her all his life. 
On the whole, his conduct was not unchivalrous. 
His behaviour towards her daughter — whom he 
married, it would seem, chiefly to please his chere 



A MEDIEVAL FIGURE 301 

amie — is far less defensible. It was, perhaps, none 
the less in keeping with the mediaeval character 
which reappeared in D'Orsay. 

The curious thing is that this Frenchman, who 
openly flouted two most cherished British character- 
istics — restraint and hypocrisy — should have been 
so popular. Byron, in his attempts to break a lance 
with the cant of his nation, was very quickly put 
ignominiously to rout. On the other hand, D'Orsay, 
had it not been for lack of funds, might have con- 
tinued to be a popular figure in London up to the 
end of his days. No one appears to have expected 
him to be moral — indeed, he seems to have been 
accorded a special charter to do as he liked. The 
fact was, that he possessed some of the most 
brilliant qualities of the French race ; and this, 
being recognized, obtained him a licence denied 
to less attractive individuals. 

Even to-day, when dandies are at a decided dis- 
count, there is something fascinating about the 
name of D'Orsay, and no one is disposed to be very 
severe towards the memory of the handsome, well- 
bred man of pleasure, who sleeps his last sleep on 
his native soil side by side with the woman he 
loved. May the Recording Angel drop a tear upon 
the page on which are inscribed his failings, and 
blot them out for ever ! 



m 



INDEX 



Acts of Parliament, 44, 46 

Ages of man, the nine, 15 

Agnew, Sir Andrew, 45 

Ailesbury, the Marquis of, 113 

Ainshe, Douglas, 297 

Albert, Fred, 163 

Albert Hall, a fancy-dress ball at 

the, 178 
Albion Tavern, the, in Aldersgate 

Street, 40 
Alexander, the Emperor, 227 
Altruism as a profession, 4 
Alvauley, Lord, 295 
Ambigu, the, 182 
Amphitryon Club, the, 41 
Ancien regime, memoirs of the, 

216 
Anglomanie, 205 
Anson, the Hon. George, 54 
Antigny, Blanche d', 239, 240 
Apperley, Mr., 290 
Arango, the Marquis Paivay, 242 
Arbuthnot, Mr., and a horse, 148 
Argyll, a Duke of, 9 
Ai-gyll Eooms, 155, 158 
Aristocrats of the Victorian 

period, 7 
Ascetics, the toleration of, 1 
Auber, 238 
Aubignac, M. d', 34 
" Aubrey Plantagenet," a song, 

163 
Augilbert Fils, 195 
Aumont, M., 206 

" Bagarre," Lucy, 254 
Baird, Abington, 113, 116 
Bal des Quatz' Arts, the, 252 
Bands, the, of Musard, 184 
Bankruptcy in past times, 72 
Barber, a joke played upon a, 91 



Barry, Mme. du, 214 
Barry more, Lord, 26 
Bartholomew Fair, 109 
Bath, a wager about a hot, 69 
Battut, Charles de la, 183, 201 
Baudry, Paul, 243 
Beaufort, Dr., 26 
Beaufranchet, Comte d'Oyat, 212 
Beauvoir, Roger de, 197 
Bellanger, Marguerite, 239 
'• Belle Helene, La," 237 
BelLknappe, Sir Edward, 256 
BelVs Life, 58 
Bellwood, IBessie, 163 
Benzon, Ernest, 112 
Berenger, M., 253 
" Beresina," 240 
Berkeley, a friend of Jemmy 

Urquhart, 290 
Bernard quoted, 259 
Bets, eccentric, 62 
Betting, 61 
Beza, Theodore, 262 
Bignell, Mr., 158 
Bignon's, 42 
Birdcage Walk, 266 
Biron, the Duke de, 205 
Bisset, an animal trainer, 166 
Blase attitude, the, 177 
Blessington, Lady, 300 
Blue Posts, the, 33 
"Bohemian element," the, 178, 

180 
Boileau, Sir John, 122 
Bois de Boulogne, the, 191 
Boodle's, 62 
Boredom, 25 
Borghese, Pauline, 203 
BouiUon, the Chevalier du, 181 
Bourke, Algernon, 41 
Bourse, removal of the, 192 



303 



304 



INDEX 



Bower, Mr., 150 

Box-lobby loungers, 88 

Brebant's, 42 

Brighton, the Pavilion at, 270 

Bristol, the, 42 

British race, the, 108 

Brohan, Mdlle., 240 

" Broken Bow," the, '296 

Brokers, 110 

Brooks's, 62, 87 

Brudenell, Lord, 149 

Brummell, Beau, 287, 295 

Buck, the most objectionable kind 

of, 100 
Bumble-bee, the philosophy of 

the, 3 
Burgoyne, Alan, 51 
Burlesque, 168 
Byron, H. J., 168 
Byron, Lord, 141 

Cafe Anglais, the, 42, 197, 198, 
224, 228, 250 

Cafe Concert, popularity of the, 
223 

Cafe de Mille Colonnes, the, 191 

Cafe de Paris, the, 195, 198, 228 

Cafe des Ambassadeurs, the, 223 

Cafe du Bosquet, 223 

Cafe Hardy, the, 194 

Cafe Riche, 42, 195, 238 

Cafe Royal, the, 42 

Calais, 287, 288, 292 

Calais sands as a duelling ren- 
dezvous, 106 

Caldwell, Dr., 137 

CaUfornian spendthrift, a, 17 

Cambridge undergraduate, a, 135 

Campbell, Herbert, 165 

Camp des Tartares, the, 192 

Can-can, the, 183 

Carlisle House, gaming at, 65 

Carhsle, Lord, 206 

Carlton, the, 41 

Caroline, Queen, 274 

Carvalho, M.,238 

Casanova, 209 

Catharine, Queen, 255 

Cat's Opera, the, 167 

Champagne, 162, 269 

Champagne-bottles as bowling- 
pins, 19 

Champagne Charlie, 161 

Champs Elysees, the, 191 



Chandelier, Alfred de Musset's, 

237 
Charles II., King, 265, 269 
Charles X., King of France, 198, 

219 
Chateauvillard, M. de, 62 
Chaumiere, la, 219 
Chesterfield, Lord, 27 
Chevalier, Albert, 164 
Chilx>eric, 240 
Chorus girls, 171 
Christ Church, hunting at Oxford, 

149 
Christ Church, Oxford, 131 
Gibber's apology for Charles II, 

266 
Cirque Olympique, 182 
Closerie des Lilas, the, 223 
Coach of porcelain, a, 212 
Coaching days, 278 
Coaching, "Mad Windham's," 

126 
Coborn, Charles, 164 
Cocottes, the, of the Second 

Empire, 239 
Cole, Rev. W., 205 
Coleraine, Lord (Colonel Hanger), 

83 
Coleraine, Lord (Blue Hanger), 

86 
Collins, Lottie, 158 
" Commissaires de Chastete," 49 
Conjurer's tricks, a, 140 
Contes cVHoffmann, les, 236 
Conyngham, Lady, 279 
Cooking, 33 
Corinthian, the, 174 
Cornelys, Mrs., 180 
Costume, modern free-and-easy, 

175 
Cremorne Gardens, 155 
Criminal Law Amendment Act, 

the, 50 
Cripple, story of a pretended, 

195 
Crockford's, 59, 67 
Cross, Tom, 281 
Cruel sport, 55 
Crutch and Toothpick Brigade, 

the, 167, 171 
Cubat, a Russian restaurateur, 

246 
Cucumbers, 272 
" Cutting a dash," 13 



INDEX 



305 



Dainties, 2 

Dalou, the sculptor, 244 

Daly's Theatre, 171 

Dances, 179 

Dancing halls, 45 

Dan Leno, 164 

Daughters of pleasure, 50 

D'Aurevilly, Barbey, 297 

Deakin's, near Bicester, a hunting 

resort, 148 
Debts, 97 
Decadents, 109 
Dejeuner a la fourchette, the, 

194 
Demi-daumont, the, 239, 248 
Demidolf, Prince Paul, 225 
Demi-monde, the, 239 
Derby night, 157 
Descartes, 2 
Devil to Pay, The, 118 
Dillon, M., 231, 232 
Dinner-party, a wager about a, 

71 
Donnersmarek, Count Henkel 

von, 244, 245 
D'Orsay, Count, 68, 201, 298 
Douglas, Isle of Man, 291 
Dress, a period of extravagance 

in, 94 
Drinking, fancy, 17 
Duclere, 228 
DueUing, 104, 230 
Duras, the Due de, 2 
Duthe, La, 211 
Duval, Bouillon, 241 

Early closing, 43 
Early Closing Act, the, 155 
Early closing in Paris, 193, 251 
Eating-houses in Paris, 194 
Ecarte, a miniature tragedy of, 63 
Ecolier de Gluny, V, 197 
Economy, a curious method of 

imposing, 9 
Education, the fruits of careless, 

108 
Edward VII, King, 272 
Electric lights in theatres, 168 
Embury, Mr., 198 
Empire, the First, 218 
Empire, the Second, 238 
English characteristics, 108 
EngUsh in Paris, the, 190, 219 
Evelyn, John, 266 



Evil days of the Sparks, 294 
Extravagance at the Universities, 
142 

Fancy dress balls, 177, 179 

Farren, Nellie, 168 

" Fat Phillips," a Calais character, 
107 

Faimtleroy, the forger, 288 

Feeney, Pat, 163 

Felbriggs, the De, 119 

Fellow-Commoners, the, 132 

Fellows of University Colleges as 
Men of Pleasure, 131 

Feuillant, M., 234 

Field of the Cloth of Gold, the, 
256 

Financial speculations a snare, 22 

" Financiers," a species of high- 
class usurers, 76 

Fitzhardinge, Lord, 68 

Fitzherbert, Mrs., 273, 296 

Fitzjames, the Marquis de, 206 

Foley, Mr., 150 

Folly, the quality of, 1 

Fordham, a Cambridge horse- 
dealer, 146 

Foreigner, the Briton abroad not 
a, 33 

Forty Thieves, The, 168 

Four aux Queux, the, 192 

Four-in-hand Club, a Cambridge, 
146 

Four-in-hand Club, the, 279 

Fox, Charles James, 102 

Fox, the waiter at the Star Inn, 
Oxford, 151 

Francis I, King, 256 

Frankau, Gilbert, 176 

Franklin, Benjamin, 21 

French Jockey Club, the, 195 

Frith's " Derby Day," 59 

Future, a young man's thoughts 
of the, 23 

Gaiety, the decay of, 180 
Gaiety Theatre, the, old and new 

168 
Gambetta, 246 
Gambling, 61 

Gambling at the Universities, 153 
Gaming-houses, Parisian, 193 
Gardenia, the, 174 
Gautier, Theophile, 243 

20 



306 



INDEX 



Gavami, 183 
Genlis, Mme. de, 216 
Gentility, definitions of, 31, 39 
George Eliot quoted, 60 
George IV, King, 269, 273, 278 
Gilchrist, Connie, 169 
Girardin, Emile de, 244 
Godfrey, Charles, 160 
Golf, 175 

Goncourt, the brothers, 244 
Goodriche, Sir Harry, 150 
Graham, Dr., the keeper of a 

gaming-house, 65 
Graham, Sir James, 143 
Gramont, the Count de, 265 
Gramont-Caderousse, the Due de, 

229 
Grande-Duchesse de Gerolstein, 

La, 230, 233 
Grand Seize, le, 244 
Grant, Mr., 54 
Grisettes, 220, 222 
Grossmith, George, 170 
Guerchy, M., 206 
Guimard, La, 211 
Guiraud, M., 238 
Gulls, 53 

Hair, red and golden, 174 

Hall, Recorder of London in reign 

of Henry VIII, 257 
Hanger, Colonel George, 83 
Happiness, the fear of, 31 
Harborough, Lord, 150 
Harrison, M., 230 
Harvey, Lady Sophia, 120 
Hastings, the Marquess of, 57, 111 
Hatchett's, 33, 36 
Hawke, the Hon. Martm, 295 
Hawkes the highwayman, 83 
Henry II, King of France, 263 
Henry IV, King of France, 264 
Henry VIII, King, 255 
Herbert, "WiUiam, a joke played 

on schoolmasters, 139 
Hereford, the Bishop of, 57 
Herrick, Eobert, quoted, 210 
Hertford, Lady, 195, 202 
Hertford, Lord (Lord Yarmouth), 

202 
" Hide," Lord, 280 
Hill, Jenny, 160 
Hill, Rowland, 134 
" Hobson's choice," 145 



Home, music-master to George 

IV, 283 
Hornsey Wood, a pigeon-shooting 

resort, 54 
Horse-dealers at Cambridge, 146 
Horseplay, military, 117 
Horse-racing in France, 205 
Horses, 148 
Hortense, Queen, 216 
Hotel Paiva, the, 242 
Hounds, Oxonian followers of, 148 
Houssaye, Arsene, 244, 248 
Hubinet, M., 162 
Hughes, Tom, 64 
Hummums, the old, 271 
Hyene, Lieutenant, 231 

Ices, a beggar's dish of, 199 

Idler, the, 4 

Fm living with mother now, a 

song, 164 
Indian climate, a story of the, 37 
I say, cabby, a song, 174 
Ismail Pasha, 234 

Jardin de Paris, the, 155 

Jeunesse doree, the, 157 

Jews, 76 

Jockey Club, the, 62, 65 

Jockey Club, the French, 195,206 

Joyless people, 1 

Jubilee Juggins, 112 

" Kate Hamilton's," 44 

Kaye, Dr., 152 

Khalil Bey, 224 

Kitton, Mr., 127 

Knighting, a mock, 79 

Knocked 'em in the Old, Kent 

Boad, 164 
Krudener, Mme. de, 227 

Lachman, Theresa (Mme. de 
Paiva), 241 

Lade, Sir John, 279 

Ladies' League, the, at Long- 
champs, 211 

Lafitte, Charles, 62 

Lagrange, M. de, 230 

Languages, the universal, 24 

Late hours, 46 

Lauraguais, Count, 205 

Lauzun, the Duke de, 205, 212 

Lee, Arthur, 51 



J 






INDEX 



307 



Legislation against personal 

}«ftlibert.y, 48 

Lennox, Lord William, 67 

Leslie, Fred, 169 

Levi, Nathan, changes his name, 

77 
Leybourne, George, 161 
Life, the secret of, 12 
Ligne, the Prince de, 16 
Limmer's, 33, 35 
Limonadiere, La Belle, 191 
Little Doctor Faust, 168 
Lloyd, Marie, 166 
Loder's Club at Oxford, 149 
Long's, 33, 35, 36, 38, 113 
Lonnen, Mr., 169 
Louis XI, King, 200 
Louis XIV, King, 265 
Louis XV, King. 205, 212, 264 
Louis XVI, liing, 212 
Louis Philippe, 193, 295 
Loze, M., 253 

Mabiliennes, the, 220 
Mabille, 219, 224, 247 
MacDermott, the " Great," 159 
Mahoney, John, 163 
Maison d'Or, the, 198, 224 
Maison Doree, the, 42, 194, 224 
Mangain, the architect, 243 
March, Lord (" Old Q ") , 4, 203, 206 
Maria Theresa, the Empress, 49 
Marie Antoinette, Queen, 213 
Marney, Sir Henry, 261 
Marot, Clement, 262 
Marriages of convenience, 77 
Masked balls, 179, 248 
Matrimony from the stage, 171 
Medical examination, a curious, 

134 
MeUish, Captain, 294 
Memoirs of Lauzun, the, 216 
Men-about-town, the occupations 

of, 88 
Mendoza, 110 

Merchant of Venice, The, 118 
Merimee, Prosper, 238 
Messager, Andre, 187 
Metternich, the Princesse de, 238 
Meynell, Hugo, 206 
Michelet, 188 
"Mie-Mie," 5,203 
MUes, W., 150 
Military horseplay, 117 



Military men, 103 

Millar, Gertie, 170 

Miller, Joe, 135 

" Milord Arsouille," 198 

Mira, 184 

Modern civilization, 4 

MoH and Chandon, a song, 162 

Mogador, Celeste, 185, 221 

Molineux, Lord, 150 

Monaghan, Darby, 79 

Money-lenders, 76 

Montague, a desperado, 107 

Monte Carlo, the man who broke 

the banlc at, 164 
Montmartre, the Abbess of, 264 
Montmartre, the Hill of, 252 
Montrond, Count Casimir de, 202 
Moralists, 1 

Morality, conventional, 5 
Morny, the Due de, 247 
Morphise, la, 212 
Motoring, 175 
Murat, Joachim, King of Naples, 

191 
Murger, 189, 220 
Musard, 184 
Musical comedy, 170 
Music halls, old and new, 158 
Mustapha Pasha, 224 
Mytton, Jack, 121 

Napoleon, 182, 206, 216 
Napoleon III, the Emperor, 223, 

237, 245 
Night-clubs, 44, 176 
" Nimrod " (Mr. Apperley), 290 
Noblesse, the old French, 210 
Norfolk, the Duke of, 271 
Northland, Lord, 105 

Odeon, the, 182 
Offenbach, Jacques, 236 
Old Bob Bidleij, a song, 122 
Old Hats, the, at Ealing, 53 
One of Us, a poem, 176 
On me 'ansom,, a song, 174 
Opera, costume at the, 225 
Opera, the first public ball at the, 

180 
Opera Comique, the, 181, 238 
Orange, the Prince of, 224 
Orchestra, the, under Musard, 185 
Orleans, the Duke of, 181 
Orphee aux Enfers, 237, 240 



308 INDEX 



Osbaldeston, Mr., 54 
Ovid, the works of, 86 
Oxford sports, 148 

Painting, a dealer deceived by a, 

73 
Paiva, Madame de, 241 
Palaces of Varieties, the modem, 

165 
Palais Koyal, the, 190 
Paris restaurants, 42 
Paris, revelry in, 180 
Paris the pleasure -resort of 

Europe, 249 
Paskiewitch, Prince, 226 
Passions, rejuvenated, 16 
Pavilion, the old London, a music- 
hall, 158, 167 
Pearl, Cora, 239, 240, 248 
Pene, M. de, 231 
" Perdita," 273 
Peterborough, the Earl of, 10 
Petit Cercle, the, 195 
Phryne, 217 
Pigeons and trap-shooting, 53, 

59 
Pinchbeck, Mr., 167 
Pleasure, Lord Chesterfield on, 

27 
Pleasure-seeker, character of the, 

13 
Poix, the Prince de, an anecdote 

of, 189 
Polka, the, 220 
Pomare, la Reine, a dancer, 185, 

220 
Pommery, Mme., 162 
Pompon, Rose, 220 
Pope the usurer, 65 
Porte St. Martin, the, 182 
Prado, the, 222 

" Pretty Horse-breakers," the, 125 
Prodigal son, the resolute wife of 

a, 78 
Promenade de Longchamps, the, 

211 
Prostitution, 49 
Puritanism in Paris, 253 

"Q, Old" (Lord March), 4, 203, 

206 
Quartier Latin, the aristocracy of 

the, 222 
Queensberry, the Duke of, 6 



Rabelais, 2 

Racing, 55, 110 

Railway guard, " Mad Windham " 

as a, 123 
Ranelagh, Lord, 54 
Red House, the, at Battersea, 53, 

54 
Reform Bill, the, 8 
Regent's Pimch, 269 
Regulation of Clubs Bill, 47 
Restaurants, 33 
Restaurants, Parisian, 194, 250 
Restaurateur, an extortionate, 250 
Riding to hounds at Oxford, 148 
Rigolette, 185 
Ring, the Prince Regent's love of 

the, 278 
Riots in Paris, 253 
Ritz, the, 41 

Roberts, Arthur, 161, 164 
Roberts, S., 47 
Robin Hood, 255 
Robinson, Mrs., 273 
Rocca, M. de la, 230 
Romano's, 40 
Rook, the murder of a man named, 

107 
Rooks, 59 

Roqueplan, Nestor, 197 
Roques, Jules, 252 
Ross, Captain, 54 
Rossini, 228, 237 
Rothschild, Baron James de, 57 
Roulette at the Universities, 153 
Rowlandson, Thomas, 144 
Royce, E. W., 168 
Rubens, story of a spurious, 73 
Ruin, the road to, 10 
Running match, a strange, 67 
Rutland, the third Duke of, 79 

Sainte-Beuve, 244 

Saint Cricq^ the Marquis de, 196 

St. Evremond, 269 

St. Foix, M. de, 214 

St. John, Florence, 169 

St. Leger, Colonel, 78 

Salads, the art of making, 34 

Sands, Sir WiUiam, 257 

" Saucisson d'or 1" 43 

Savoy Restaurant, the, 41 

Savoy Theatre, the, 168 

Saxton, an organist, 283 

Schneider, Hortense, 229, 230, 232 



1 



INDEX 



309 



Schoolmasters, a practical joke 

upon, 139 
Scoldwell, Charles, 66 
Sebastian, Father, 181 
Second thoughts, 11 
See me dance tJie Polha, 176 
Selwyn, George, 5, 203, 206 
Sepoy, an embalmed, 37 
Sergent, Elise, 220 
Seymour, Lord Henry, 195, 198 
Sham men of pleasure, 19 
Sheard, Mr., story of his horse, 148 
Sheriff's officers : a wise one, 97 ; 

and a fooUsh one, 98 
Shoubridge, Mr., 54 
Slavery in modern England, 46 
Socialism, unconscious, 111 
Societe d'Encouragement, the, 206 
Soldier, story of a reckless, 218 
Soldiers of fortune, 61 
Solicitors, useful, 6 
Songs from Vagabondia, 8 
Spalding, J., 67 
Spectator, The, a legislative 

measure proposed by, 48 
Speculation, 30, 56, 110 
Spendthrifts, 9, 17 ; the life of a 

spendthrift, 27 
Spiders, a bet on, 63 
Sporting careers, 111 
Sporting men, 21 
Standen, Colonel, 68 
Stead, W. T., 49 
Stevens, Alfred, the Belgian 

painter, 43 
Strauss, 186 
Suffield, Lord, 122 
Supper clubs, 41 
Surtees, Eobert, 138 
Swearing, 102 

Taglioni's legs, a bet on, 62 
Tahiti, the Queen of, 221 
Tailors' biUs, payment of, as 

proof of gentility, 21 
Taine, 244 
Talbot, Lord, 106 
Talleyrand, 16, 203 
Tannkauser, 238 
Tantalus, the punishment of, 26 
Taxi-cabs, 174 
Teazle, Lady, 31 
Tedium, 12 
Terry, Edward, 168 



Tichfield, the Marquis of, 149 
Tilley, Vesta, 166 
Theatre Fran9ais, the, 196 
Thornton, Mrs., 64 
Tom and Jerry, 33, 38, 156 
"Tooling the Mail," 147 
Toothbrush, story about a, 19 
Tortoni's, a beggar's ices at, 199 
" Tournament of Doves," the, 53 
Town-gallants, 266 
Tradesmen and their debtors, 93 
Trap-shooting of pigeons, 53 
Travellers' Club, the Paris, 246 
Trocadero Music-hall, the, 158 
Truefitt's, 28, 90 
Turf, the, 20, 30, 55, 110 
Turf, the, in France, 205 

Undergraduates, pleasure-loving, 

130 
University gaming, 153 
Urquhart, Jemmy, 288 

Valentine, Mme. de, 264 
Valentinois, the Duchess of, 211 
Vandenhall, a restaurateur, 43 
Varietes, the, 182 
" Vates," in BelVs Life, 58 
Vaubernier, Jeanne (Mme. du 

Barry), 214 
Vaughan, Kate, 168 
Vauxhall, 44 
Vaux, Sir Nicholas, 257 
Venables' Club at Oxford, 149 
Victoria, Queen, 279 
Vienna, the Prince de Ligne at 

the Congress of, 16 
Viveur, the true, 14 
Vivier, a joker, 245 
Voisin's, 42 
Voltaire quoted, 223 
Vowell, Major, 95 

Wagner's music in Paris, 238 

Waiters at the old "hostelries," 38 

Wallon, Jean, 189 

Walpole, Horace, 205 

Warren, Samuel, 16 

Watson, Alfred, 48 

Wealth, acquired, 11 

Wells's small private dances, 179 

Weltjie, Louis, 281 

WhaUey, Thomas (Buck), 293 

What cheer, 'Ria, a song, 163 



310 



INDEX 



Whips, undergraduate, 146 
Whiskers, the introduction of, 

90 
White's, 62, 63, 66 
White slave traffic, the, 50 
Wild-beast show, story of a, 118 
Wilkes, John, 105 
William (of Long's), 38 
WilUs's, 41 

Willoughby, Agnes, 125, 128 
Windham, General (" Redan "), 

123, 126 
Windham. " Mad," 117 119, 120 
Windham, William, 119 



Windsor Castle, 270 

Wits, 30 

Wit of bucks, the, 101 

Wolsey, Cardinal, 256 

Woman, 24 

Women at the Universities, 144 

Wood, Dr., 152 

Work, its benefits to the idle, 11 

Wyattville, 270 

Yarmouth, Lord, 202 
York Herald, the, 58 
Young men of wealth and their 
upbringing, 10 



THE END 



BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD 



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